A matter of perspective
by Isolith
Summary: Sharon Raydor was around before red tape and Flynn's well-acquainted with her. Stories from the good ol' days, late season one of the closer and onwards.
1. 1

**/A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE/**

Summary: Sharon Raydor was around before red tape and Flynn's well-acquainted with her. Stories from the good ol' days, late season one of the closer and onwards.

**/BATTER-UP/  
**  
"You're being a mean-spirited asshole, aren't you?" There was no mistaking that voice or the attenuation on the word asshole; Andrew Flynn turned around, his body leaning casually against the vending machine, a tongue in cheek smile on his lips as he watched none other than Sharon Raydor approach him, hand on one hip and a quirky smile Andy was rather fascinated with.

"What – in general or specifically now in this moment?" he gave her an insolent smile.

She barked a short laugh, the one that he took to mean she found him partly amusing, partly obnoxious, "More mean-spirited than usual overall, I should say. Spiteful down to a tee."

"You've got spite – I don't hear anyone complaining," he pointed his toothpick at her, enjoying the little narrowed look she directed at it. Andy paused for effect and then with a drawl, "oh wait, yes there's the ruckus – everyone's complaining."

She rolled her eyes, "You're an ass."

"You know it," he waggled his eyebrows.

Her smile stayed on, eyes fixed on him with a slight patronizing stare.

Andy gave a nonchalant shrug, "Who's complaining?" he put his toothpick back in his mouth, moving it from one corner of his mouth to the other, looking through his wallet and pretending not to be bothered by her presence.

"Every single soul who's been in the near vicinity of you lately, lieutenant," he could hear the contained laughter in her voice, clear in the resonance.

He spread his hands out, a dollar bill in one hand, "Sorry honey, that's old news."

She tilted her head, a sly little smile upon her face now, "I cannot – and I stress this – turn a corner without someone complaining about what an – and this is from memory I quote – an self-important, little ignorant fuck you are, in desperate need of a good whack in, well, you get the gist," she raised a delicate eyebrow, standing close to him, arms crossed and a small grin at the corner of her mouth as she leaned against the corner of the vending machine.

Andy slid the dollar into the machine, punching the numbers for a cola. He pursed his lips when he gave her a look sideways, watching her up close. She was always a sight to behold – even when he would rather curse her existence. She had a unique knack for inspiring an inimical spark in many an officer; she sparked something else in him, that playful look of deviousness and the way she could dispense away with sardonic replies.

Andy blew air out of his mouth, feigning impatience flat out, "Oh blow me – when did we start taking in overly sensitive, hysterical rookies. I tell you, I miss the good old days," he took the can out of the machine, opening it and taking a slurp with an ungodly loud sip; just to annoy her,  
"The good old days, ah, remember them? "

Her eyebrow rose even higher - if that was possible at all – and he knew that little tilt to the left side with her head was a direct sign she was either pissed or amused, possible both emotions in a concoction he had no clue what to do with. She was an ambivalent force both within her own right and within her capacity in the building.

She shook her head, small miniscule shakes back and forth, eyes on him with a narrowed look, "It's not the whelps complaining, it's the seniors."

That shut him up.

Her smile widened, "Ahhh, that caught your attention."

Andy shifted his toothpick and then offered her a sip of his cola.

She took the beverage right out of his hand, sipping with a sly look from out under her lashes.

"The only senior I can think of – and mind you I say senior with the utmost respect," she hummed in mock-sincerity and he continued, voice filled to the brim with sarcasm, "is one very accented Miss Atlanta."

She pursed her lips, "and a few others. It's nothing official – just the grapevine going up a volume, you know how it is. It's just that you have an unparalleled talent for pissing the wrong people off – and they tend to gripe about you in the break rooms."

"And you tend to stand around eavesdropping in break rooms?" he teased her, catching the small little twitch of the left side of her mouth; she shook her head again, this time amused.

"So I should consider myself warned? Huh? A little special warning from my dear friend in the rat squad?"

Her smile went from ear-to-ear then and he knew when she resorted to her Cheshire smile she was finding everything to be working in her favor – which most of the time meant things were incidentally not working in his favor; he sighed.

Her smile stayed wide, "Ordinarily, yes. Though, I must confess I am more concerned with the fact that you've yet to ask whether I want the sour cream and onion chips or not," she tilted her head and looked to the mentioned snack in the vending machine with a little pout.

Andy rolled his eyes, popping in another dollar and punching the numbers for the small bag of chips with more force than necessary. He made a show out of opening it up for her, holding the little plastic bag for her so she could reach in.

She tried to contain her smile but it was vivid in her whole face, "Pompous ass," she smiled around the potato chips and he grinned.

Andy popped a handful of chips into his own mouth.

"So, the reason for your recent descent into prickliness is?" she asked around munching on chips, sipping his cola as well; looking smug in every meaning of the word.

"Descent," he tasted the word with a smirk, "why, you'd know a thing or two about descending, huh. I'd imagine hell's hot this time of the year."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeees, I've caught the elevator from Satan's lair – now spit it out; what's wrong?"

He shrugged, "Nothing."

"Oh honey, pouting does not become you," she patted his biceps, moving away from the vending machine so he was forced to follow; he watched her look around the corner of the corridor, smiling when she saw it was empty and devoid of other officers, "You staying sober?"

"You would be the first to know if I fell off, Captain," he told her, sincerity in his words even if he crossed his arms and directed a glare her way. She ignored his glare – she always did.

"I've got to ask – you know that."

"I'm committed – and you know that."

"I know."

She smiled – gently this time and he knew she was just looking out for him in her own strange way. She was after all the reason he was still in the force and had not been thrown out on his ass years back; Sharon Raydor believed in second chances and for that he was grateful.

"How's Jack?" he asked and instantly her smile became distorted, cold within a second.

"Jack likes to surround himself with people who are not aware of his many," she paused, eyes cold as well, "flaws."

"Oh," Andy nodded, he understood the veiled information; Jack had gone on one of his hideouts, drowning in darkness and addiction somewhere.

"I haven't seen him in the group for a long time," Andy explained.

She merely hummed dismissively.

He sighed, he knew she wouldn't elaborate or talk more on the subject; she never wanted to discuss it with him and he understood it – respected it. Instead he decided to tell her what had been bothering him; "The new hierarchy, that's was wrong. I don't care much for the whole new setting in this building; let's just leave it at that."

"You and Taylor both – it's like a regular kindergarten around here. I bet you, if Miss Atlanta was a Mr we wouldn't be having this discussion at all," she huffed, crossing her arms. Her eyes became almost grey steel.

He grunted, "Hell, that's not the problem – I would abhor a Mr Atlanta with equal fervor," he paused, gauging her continued look of disbelief – better change the subject he thought, "Now Taylor; there's the guy you really should be asking – he's more torn up about it than I am. I'm just helping the poor guy out, following directions, nothing more than that."

She quirked an eyebrow, giving him a look that clearly stated she thought he was full of bullshit, "So you're just the grunt-boy, huh. Just doing all the menial work for your boss?"

He smiled around his toothpick, a small wink at her.

"Taylor's an idiot," she told him, giving him back his cola and taking the bag of chips from his hands instead.

"We're all idiots – isn't that why you abhor working with us? Isn't that why you prefer Satan's lair?"

She hummed.

"Just key it down – count to ten and make everyone's day a happy one."

"Nah, sorry – I've got a compulsory need to be a pain in the ass."

"Don't you ever – however, consider yourself warned. No more going behind everyone's back, Andy, no more trying to undermine your superiors. It'll only backfire, okay?"

He shrugged and she smiled in return, her lips back to the sly look she had perfected to mean a variety of different things.

Andy leaned closer, and then with a low tone, "I could show you mean-spirited if you want?"

She leaned in conspiratorially, a dangerous glint in her eyes, "You'll only get burnt darling."

"What – Satan doesn't like sharing?"

"Indeed he doesn't."

They smiled widely at each other, standing a little closer than what was usual. She leaned back first and then depositing the half empty bag of chips into his arms, she turned on the spot, "Thank you for the meet-and-chips, lieutenant – do carry on."

He saluted her, watching as she walked away with a little strut. He shook his head, lips parted in a smile.

Andrew Flynn slinked into the squadroom of Robbery and Homicide, catching Taylor just as he looked up from a conversation with a uniform.  
"Internal Affairs sniffing around," Andy said by way of greeting when the uniform left the room, his toothpick firmly at the corner of his mouth as he spoke.

Taylor approached him with a sour expression, "I know - I've already gotten the kick in the nuts from the Pope."

Andy shook his head, "Well, what'da ya know."

Taylor stood next to him, crossed arms and a look in his eyes that Andy knew was a mix between disappointment and fury.

"How do you know?" Taylor asked Andy.

Andy shrugged, "I shared a cordial conversation with our beloved I.A. Captain."

Taylor looked at him surprised, "She still talking to you after that whole debacle last year?"

Andy nodded, "I guess my natural charm is her weak point."

Taylor smiled, "Your natural charm kills flies, you smartass."

Andy grinned.

"You apologized, didn't you, you smug bastard?" Taylor chuckled.

Andy smiled wide, "Of course – it's Raydor we're talking about."

Taylor gave a short little laugh and then composed himself.

"Nothing official yet but I think it's a matter of treading carefully," Andy explained; Sharon looked out for him even if he was a mean-spirited asshole.

Taylor grunted, "Yeah – or maybe it's a matter of changing tactics, huh."

Andy smiled along with Taylor, agreeing with a nod.

Sharon would disagree but then she always had a more logic and diplomatic approach to life. Andrew Flynn was different in that aspect. The bitch hated his guts so why should he care if she was technically his superior; she was not even one of them – not even from LA; she had never worked a beat here. He cared little for Miss Atlanta and he did not mind undermining her; not one bit.

…

**/FATAL RETRACTION/  
**  
"You throwing yourself the requisite pity party?"

Andrew Flynn looked up from his desk, surprised when he found none other than the figure of Sharon Raydor approaching him, immaculate in a black skirt and blazer. His legs were thrown causally on the desk and his chair leaned back as he stared angrily into the black screen of a computer. He was in the middle of contemplating whether he could plea insanity for murdering Taylor or not, anger animate in his body. It melted partly the moment she came sliding into the squad room of Robbery/Homicide, her usual smile in place but with a soft edge to it.

Now, under normal circumstances he would greet her with a mutual smile but today had been a hell; he was in no mood to greet anyone amicably. "Yeah," he blew out with a snarl, "I'm being a pitiful creature here all by my lonesome."

She raised an eyebrow, her mouth twitching, "Oh, honey – you do look pitiful indeed."

He glared and crossed his arms, "You're awful – just plain awful."

She smiled, her teeth showing, not in the least moved by his attitude.

He ran a hand through his hair and in defeat he sighed, "You've gotta tell me who the fuck your informants are," he paused, judging the telltale arched eyebrow was in honor of his obscenity, "So I can deck whoever's running around blabbing left and right."

She laughed and then sat down on his desk, pushing his legs a bit to the side with a small pat to make room for her on his desk. He watched her cross one leg over the other, her head tilted fractionally as she regarded him, eyes clear.

"Heck," he sighed when she continued to simply look at him patiently, "This building's full of rats!"

Her mouth twitched again, this time he was hard pressed to determine whether she was amused or annoyed, "Are you calling me a rat, Lieutenant?" There was a sweet lilt to her voice, poisonous when it became that low timbre; he smiled to himself, enjoying being able to aggravate her to an extent.

Casually he leaned further back in his chair and regarded her with a belligerent smirk, "No at all – I'm calling all those snitches that run to internal affairs with gossip rats – you're just the handler. A gorgeous rat handler nonetheless." He made a big show out of staring at her bare legs, enjoying the little flicker of green ire he caught in the depths of her eyes when he looked up again.

She fixed him with a long stare, motionless and unblinking, as if she was either putting him on the scales and the jury was still out or maybe she was internalizing a little 'count-to-ten'; it was a curious concept to rattle her – it was seldom a visible effect, miniscule when it appeared.

"I heard you're resigning from Robbery/Homicide," she said after a brief moment of silence, her voice carefully neutral yet he caught the little tint of repressed annoyance in her eyes, the way her lips compressed together and the way she sat even more ramrod straight on his desk.

Andy nodded, his jaw aching from anger, "And where did you hear that?"

"A rat told me," she snipped, voice dry.

Andy glared at her and she glared back, her arms crossed now, lips almost on the point of being pursed. It was not her fault, he tried telling himself – it was always easy to lash out at others, especially her.

She looked away first, eyes going down and briefly fastening on her own skirt – he watched her chest fall and rise and heard the small, almost noiseless sigh that left her lips.

Andy pouted, his voice raw when he said out aloud "Someone fed me to the wolves today – made a show out of cutting me into big great chunks first."

Sharon looked up, her eyes latching onto him; he was once again uncertain how to decipher her expression. "Taylor, I presume," she said in dulcet tones.

"Oh don't be all innocent and shy – it doesn't suit you one bit. You know exactly what happened," he was just short of yelling now, a visible strain in his voice – he fidgeted on his chair, moving it closer to her.

She nodded, another silky smile, not at all encouraged by his vehemence this time, "I do."

Andy sighed – of course she knew. He looked back at the black computer screen, wondering how different it would be in another squad. "I feel like someone stabbed me in the back."

Sharon Raydor hummed, "So you've applied to Chief Johnson's squad?" she paused, eyes exclusively on him now, an inquisitive look. Her lips curled, "Can't defeat them, join them, huh?" She smiled at her own little joke and Andy rolled his eyes in concert.

Andy gave her a shrug when she tilted her head, demanding answer.

"Really?" she sounded dubious, one eye more narrowed than the other.

Andy nodded.

"I thought it was simply a rumor," she told him.

"Nope, everything's signed – I'm just sitting here trying to force myself to pack up my stuff and move it up two floors."

"You surprise me, lieutenant," she said, her fingers patting his legs again.

"Why is that?"

"You were bitching about her only last week – quiet spectacularly, if you recall."

He shrugged, "she hated my guts then – she only hates half of them by now."

She gave a short laugh.

Andy looked at her again, finding her eyes curious yet soft, "You heard about the case and everything? About Croelick?"

She nodded, "Yes."

Andy felt combative, glaring at her, "She said she wouldn't file a report against me."

"There's no complaint."

"Then why are you here?" his voice was brusque.

She shook her head, "To join your pity party," her smile was still soft – she was really the only one who ignored it when he blew a fuse or two.

"You can join all you want," Andy said around a smirk and in a swift move he caught her left foot, her heel resting on his thigh now as he held  
unto the ankle.

She continued to smile but her eyes became encased in shadows, her head tilting a bit to the side as if she was observing a curious new specimen of nature.

Andy let his index finger follow the curve of her ankle, around to the instep, "I was gonna hold my pity party in bed – there's always room enough for you in my bed, especially on top."

She chuckled; eyes crinkled now, her foot curiously still in his hands.

Andy continued, pressing two fingers in under the jut of bone, on the inside of her ankle, feeling the slight pulsation there, "Heck, I'll even let  
you come first – how about it?"

She sputtered now, eyes watering and her smile contagious, "You are truly unbelievable."

"Yes," he agreed with a goofy smile.

There was a brief moment of silence and Andy looked up, catching her regarding him with yet another curious tilt, "Lieutenant, what are you doing?"

Andy smiled, "Checking for a pulse."

"And what's the verdict?" her smile was soft this time.

"You're not dead," he drawled, his thumb going up her shin, fingers following in a caress.

He stared up at her, wondering when she would slap him – his hand continued –

"Ahem," someone coughed; Andy looked up and found Taylor standing with his arms crossed and a sour somewhat surprised expression on his face.

Sharon simply turned her head around, her face impassive and her polite, patient smile now on display – as if she had quite forgotten Andy was still holding her foot.

"Captain Taylor," Sharon said, her voice silk and sweet, "Would you believe it or not - but lieutenant Flynn here has been so kind as to inform me of this building's extensive rat problem."

Taylor looked confused and Andy grinned – even if he wasn't entirely following where Sharon's logic was taking her; on a little detour he imagined.

"Rat problem?" Taylor asked.

Sharon gave a shrug with a little smile, "Surprised me as well."

Taylor harrumphed and then with an annoyed look at Andy, "You still here? What, Chief Johnson sent you back?"

Andy glared, "I'm going to be well out of your hair in a second – sir."

Taylor smiled – a greasy, wan smile Andy thought.

"You here on official business, Captain Raydor?" Taylor asked her, his eyes zeroed in on her heeled foot in Andy's hand.

"No – it's quite unofficial and off duty," she merely replied, her leg dangling out of Andy's grasp – she made a graceful move out of sliding off  
his desk, "I'm merely taking an afternoon stroll through the building."

Taylor narrowed his eyes suspiciously – Sharon Raydor never strolled anywhere without purpose.

Andy stood up and grabbed the brown box where he had piled all his belongings. He then followed Sharon out of Robbery/Homicide's squad room, the feeling of Taylor's eyes burning holes in his back. Andy ignored it, instead focused on the tight skirt in front of him instead – a wide plastered grin across his face; things weren't so bad.

"Stop staring at my behind, lieutenant," Sharon said over her shoulder as she strode towards the elevator.

"I'm not," Andy pouted, hiding his smile.

"Sure," Sharon said, her head turning now, her lips parted in a condescending smile.

"Whatever," Andy supplied, his own lips parting naturally.

…

**/BLUE BLOOD/**

Andrew Flynn stalked into a well-lit, warm bar that he would normally never set foot in; it was a little too bright and a little too cozy – a little too expensive. Nonetheless he strode in through the glass door, quickly zeroing in on what had drawn him to this niche of the world; Sharon Raydor off duty sitting at a circular table in the back with three I.A detectives in civilian clothing.

Making his entrance, Andy moved his obligatory toothpick to one corner of his mouth and glared menacingly at the three junior males at the table, "Well, well – if it isn't the three musketeers," he drawled, "Why don't you three scatter off – go buy yourselves a beer; I need a word with the Captain."

Three pair of eyes glared back at him, the three men crossing their arms; Sharon raised one amused eyebrow, shaking her head at his audacity. Andy merely lifted an eyebrow in return.

The three idiots turned their heads in Sharon's direction for confirmation and then when she gave a confirming nod they left the table albeit grudgingly, eyes shining with venom when they passed by Andy, the Elliot kid even going as far as pushing past Andy with a shoulder – Andy saw Sharon sigh and he grinned.

Power-plays were always something of a turn on with I.A detectives; the lower ranking ones always easy to aggravate to one extent or the other.

Andy gave the three retreating men a little mock-salute, soaking in the sparked ire he caught in Elliot's suddenly hurried, angry footsteps.

Andy sat down with a merry smile, his elbows on the table as he took in the infamous expression most of the force had come to associate with a snake baring its fangs; dangerous.

"Hello Lieutenant –why don't you just sit down without any invitation whatsoever," Sharon greeted him over the rim of a white wine glass, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Why, thank you – that's awfully gracious of you, Captain," Andy drawled back.

Sharon rolled her eyes and then took a long drawn out sip of her wine, a condescending smirk when she swallowed, her lips parting in half-annoyance, half-curiosity.

"What brings you to my part of the woods?"

Andy smiled, "I need a favor."

She turned the wine glass in her hands, the stem in between fingers – it was empty now but for a small little pool at the bottom. Her eyes took in light and there was a calculating glint in the depths, "I'm all out of favors."

Andy leaned in across the table, his lips parting from his teeth in a little snarl, "I'm asking you nicely." He pronounced each word with extra care, finding her annoyingly calm.

Her eyebrows rose considerably and an indignant laugh left her lips, "I would hate to burst your bubble, lieutenant, but you aren't capable of asking for a favor nicely. It's quite frankly beneath you – your behavior here today blatant proof of that."

Andy sighed – of course she was going to be difficult. He gritted his teeth, "Yeah – I'm a bit short on patience today – sorry."

It was her turn to sigh, "You never have a full capacity of patience, Andy," she gave a brief smile, "What do you need in such a hurry that you see it fit to come in here and order my detectives away and inflict your oh-so-delightful presence upon me?"

"I'm a delight alright."

"You sure are."

They glared at each other for a brief moment, ire in his bloodstream making it impossible to back down – out of the corner of his eyes he noticed three pair of eyes burning holes in the side of his face from across the bar; he briefly arched an eyebrow in their direction, his smile dark.

"Andy - leave them be!"

He put his hands in the air, "Sorry, sorry – it's just so easy."

She sighed again, "Yes. Now out with it before I resort to something horrible."

"Mm – what kind of horrible things are you contemplating doing to me?" he drawled, finding the little derisive smile on her lips quite animating.

"Wouldn't you like to know!"

"I would."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed the tone tantalizing.

Andy shook his head, leaning closer and then in a whisper, "Can you – pretty please – order every goddamn neanderthal in my squadroom back to their own respective floors – put the fear of god in them or something, huh?"

"Pardon?"

"Half of central is crowding our murder room, angry and spiteful every last one of them – half-brained as well. I just need you to take a stroll through our murder room, bring along your little black book of death and give them an eyeful? Nothing more – just scare them off?"

"So," she drew the word out in that annoying sarcastic way she had perfected, "in a surprising turn of events, you want the whole LAPD to  
hate me instead of you and your precious squad?"

He nodded eagerly, "Just long enough for us to actually do our job"

She shook her head, "No thank you."

His face fell, "Sharon."

"Lieutenant," she countered voice sweet.

"I'll buy you a whole bottle of wine," Andy wagered, giving her a winning smile.

"Hmm – of my own choosing?"

"Yeah," he nodded eagerly.

"I'm not sure your meager salary covers such an expensive favor, unfortunately," her tone was back to sweetness.

Andy pouted, "Well, how much does a goddamn bottle cost?"

She looked positively radiant now, sparkling with superiority, "I already clocked out, honey – I'm not about to brave the lion's cave again; it'll only suck me in and I'll never be able to go home then."

Andy turned his pout to a sad frown, "Oh okay."

Her smile turned suspicious.

Andy continued, feigned despondency in his voice, "I only hope I'll be able to manage my miserable capacity for patience then and that I don't end up shooting one of the idiots in the process; that would be a disaster – then whoever's on call in I.A would surely be called to the scene."

He ended it with a sigh and then with a smirk, "You're on call, aren't you?"

"I saw you checking the roster this morning, Andy Flynn, you know very well I'm on call," her voice was deadly calm now.

He smiled, "Yeah – such a shame when I end up planting my fist in someone's face – because I will!"

He watched as she waved someone away; Andy looked over his shoulder catching the Elliot kid stopping midstride and returning to the bar once again, jaw clenched tight and a set expression.

"I have no reason – legally – to stride through your squadroom to strike fear in the hearts of people simply because their presence annoys you."

"Well – can't you find some obscure rule about, oh I don't know – how many people are legally allowed in a such a small little room? Surely there's a fire hazard to consider?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, I can see myself trying to sell that one to the Chief and the Mayor."

"C'mon Sharon; I'm desperate here."

Her lips curled, "Sorry – you're on your own."

Andy sighed; well that was a lost battle.

She reached across the table, patting his arm – her eyes soft when he looked up, "Call me when you get off, though?"

Andy pouted, "I'll probably be working through the night."

Her head tilted, "Yes – but when you get off and everybody else goes to the little bar at the corner of ninth – stop by, I'll be up anyway. A homemade meal – I even got some of that awful cranberry juice you seem to love so much."

He nodded, "Sure – but only if you make those mean brownies you served me last time."

She smiled.

Andy smiled back, and then in a swift move he got up, giving her a little wave before turning and making his way out; he fixed the three idiots with a rude salute, able to imagine Sharon rolling her eyes at his antics.

…

**/TO PROTECT AND SERVE /**

"I have a hypothetical question for you." Andrew Flynn proclaimed as he stuck his head inside Sharon Raydor's office, purposefully forgetting to knock on her door to announce his presence. The room was neat and square, light and a bit too pristine; the rookies used to joke that she had a button on her desk somewhere that she could push in emergencies and the ground would then open up and suck everything into a vortexed-hell. It seemed fitting somehow to imagine the light and bright office had an underbelly of sorts; secret compartments that led to the underworld or maybe a secret niche with a broom and cauldron.

"Pardon?"

Amused Andy watched as she sat up a bit straighter in her chair, the otherwise reclining position she had been reading a report in quickly amended; her eyes turned from confusion to suspicion the moment she realized it was him.

"Oh, it's you," she said, voice low and somewhat sardonic.

"Indeed it is," Andy fired back coming further inside the office. He always enjoyed the way one side of her mouth twitched and the special way she had of appraising him with half narrowed eyes as if she found him somewhat volatile.

"Does your question even remotely resemble your last hypothetical question you deemed fit to impose on me?" she seemed to find her own question funny because she cracked a small smile, directed inwards, eyes light.

Andy rolled his eyes, "No."

"Excellent, lieutenant – because I regret," there wasn't the slightest contrite to the word regret leaving her mouth but quite the opposite, a dry gleeful tilt, "to inform you that I have no time to play referee between you and whatever pissing contest you have going with Vice today."

Andy smiled widely back at her, "No worries, Cap – that racket is long resolved, no thanks to your exceptional skills anyway. Though I must confess," she rolled her eyes and he continued feeling gleeful, "there's this idiot Brent Keith from Narcotics who's been in my face a couple of times recently; you should see the way he barrels his way through a simple breaking and entering report."

Sharon gave him a long, condescending look, "Have you by any chance had the pleasure of reading your own reports, lieutenant?"

Andy grunted, "Oh give it a rest, I do just fine report-wise."

She shook her head, "I'm still checking your grammar."

Andy shrugged, "You are bit of a nut, yeah. Never mind that – that's not why I'm here."

"Then spit it out before I run out of time," she looked at her wrist watch, "I have an appointment to dine with the Mayor in about an hour and I  
need to finish these," she gave a pout to the files on her desk.

"You have a date with the Mayor," Andy sputtered for a moment completely forgetting why he'd sought her out in the first place, "You've got to be kidding me, that old prick!"

"You done?" she raised one eyebrow at him, daring him to continue his rant.

Andy corked his head to the side, a little narrowed look, "Hell, if you wanna rise and shine in the ranks – why not just ass-kiss the Chief like  
you usually do? Though if it were me, I'd merely turn him around and give him a nice blow-"

Her lips compressed into a thin line, "I'm having dinner with the Mayor and a committee of politicians to discuss professional standards and the recent civil case against one of our own officers."

"Oh."

She sighed loudly, a bit forcefully and dramatic Andy thought, "Your hypothetical question, Andy?"

"Errm," Andy started, not sure why he had thought it was a good idea to get her input; she was going to go ballistic he thought, or even worse  
she would end up arresting him. If she had an emergency button she would definitely push it.

"Yeees," she enquired impatiently, eyes narrowing.

Oh well, here goes he thought.

"If someone finds a dead body but does not report it right away but decide to – you know postpone it until a more opportune time – is that technically a crime? What are the consequences, you know hypothetically, if you're an officer of the law?"

She stared at him for a long time, her eyes widening, step by step – he would find it comical under different circumstances, the look of outrage horror slowly but surely appearing on her face.

"You cannot ask me something like that, lieutenant! Please tell me you haven't been postponing reporting dead bodies," abruptly she paused as if she found her own voice too shrill and high – he agreed, it had gone up in a volume he rarely heard – and then with a little intake of breath she continued, voice much more neutral and controlled, "No, wait I don't want to know – I want to have plausible deniability later on. So shush it."

Andy nodded, "Okay" and then in a swift move he turned around, ready to leave her office in a hurry.

"Flynn!"

Andy stopped midstride, his last name striking fear in him; cold like ice the way it tingled down his spine. He gave her a sheepish look over his shoulder hesitating on one foot, contemplating whether he should make a run for it or not.

"Sit," she drawled in a cold voice and pointed at the chair in front of her desk. He looked to the ceiling with a roll of his eyes – oh lord, now she was going to lecture him as if he hadn't been lectured enough for one day.

Reluctantly he closed the door behind him, thinking it was better not to have any witnesses to the scolding he was about to receive. He took his time sliding into the chair; he decided to lounge in it, a casual attitude and a little charming smile – surely that would appease her.

She still looked horrified.

"Why is it you always manage to ruin my day?"

He opened his mouth about to reply – but apparently it was a rhetorical question for she raised an eyebrow at him and he shut his mouth again. She continued, "You have a unique knack for getting into ridiculous situations, you are aware of that aren't you?"

"Sorry," he said, putting a bit of remorse into his voice, hanging his head at an appropriate level.

She gave him another look, one that clearly stated she saw through his bullshit and thought he was an idiot, "Does this hypothetical disastrous situation you find yourself in have anything to do with Taylor roaming my halls angry like a pissed off ant, ranting left and right about you and Provenza?"

"Possibly," Andy paused, gauging her expression to be somewhat long-suffering, "but hey, don't worry – we got that under control."

"We?"

"Umm."

She pursed her lips, "And why in god's name are you wearing that outfit?" her voice turned snide now, narrowed in on his jersey and the cap on his head that he had yet to get rid of, even if the chief had expressly told him to do so.

Andy grinned slyly, "Well, you see," he started but Sharon interrupted him.

"You went to the game," her voice turned pouty now, "without me?"

Andy sighed, suddenly remembering he had technically promised her he would take her out to a game the next time he got tickets.

Shit.

"Well, I haven't been to the game yet – the situation got in the way."

"You're forgetting intent, you fool. You were planning on going to the game without me."

She had a point.

"Provenza secured the tickets," Andy lied, "So, really, I couldn't invite you along; he can't stand the sight of you and we only had two tickets."

"So," she drew it out, "You prefer that old prick over me?"

Andy shook his head, "It was skybox tickets, Sharon! I couldn't tell him I couldn't go with him because Internal Affairs had dibs on me!"

She sniffed, "You owe me big time."

Andy smiled, quirking one eyebrow suggestively at her, "You name your price, honey, and I'll deliver."

She smiled back – only it was not full of mirth or even humor, more laced with disdain than he would have liked, "I want skybox tickets."

Andy gave a slow nod, "Yeah – that's gonna be hard to pull off again – I'm not sure my contact -"

She interrupted him, "I thought you said Provenza secured the tickets this time?"

"Umm."

"Oh," she rolled her eyes, "just go resolve your situation – you're being too obnoxious for my liking."

Andy grinned at her, trying to inflict some boyish charm into it. Her lips curled and she shook her head a bit.

There was a moment of silence where Andy decided her eyes had a tiny glint of amusement in them even if she still seemed somewhat annoyed by his hypothetical situation.

"I'll just go back to," Andy stood up a rogue smile directed at her, "resolving my shit-situation then."

She waved, "Good luck."

"Thank you Captain."

On his way out of her office she laughed, Andy turned around in the doorway and watched her crinkled eyes.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm just so happy you're not part of my division," she told him, her voice even sounding relived.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Yeah – it would be too much temptation."

"Yes," she agreed, "I would be tempted on a daily basis to deliver a well-directed shot to your lower regions with my Glock."

Andy reflectively put a hand in front of said anatomy, feigning a horrified expression, "You witch!"

Her laughter followed him out the door and he smiled to himself as he made his way back to the murder room; god it was a mess.

…

**/OUT OF FOCUS/**

For once Andrew Flynn had somewhat innocuous thoughts – or rather they were innocent before he rounded the corner into the open space of Internal Affairs' break room. He stopped short at the sight of Sharon Raydor leaning against a table, two hands braced palm down on the top surface and her back arched back – he had the most wonderful view of her ass coming into the room, the scent of freshly brewing coffee heavy in the air. This might just be his favorite combination, he thought, the promise of strong bitter coffee and the view to the stretch of a black skirt across her backside, the back of her thighs framed. Shit, he thought; that was a view that elicited salacious imagery.

He grinned; Sharon had a strange predilection for leaning on inanimate objects and every so often he would catch her in the act so to speak.

Andy couldn't help himself, the situation too delectable to pass up – she hadn't noticed his presence yet so with stealth he moved towards her, mindful of keeping quiet. He noticed the open magazine on the table, open to a page with fashionable dresses, a review report next to it – judging by the line of her eyes she was more focused on the fashion article. He smiled even more widely, the notion of her immersed in something frivolous while waiting for her coffee – it was quite frankly exhilarating as hell.

With precision he slid up to her, his arms going along on either side of her, his hips an inch from the jut of her ass; he blew air into her ear, half covered by her hair, "You are looking positively nefarious when you stand with your ass in the air."

The only sign she was surprised was the small shiver he could feel in her body against his chest and the way she suddenly stood so rigidly still that he could hear the air leaving her mouth.

"Lieutenant, what are you doing?" her voice was low, almost a whisper – he would liken it to the low simmer of fire eating away at a log of wood, at a low ember but with the capacity for blazing danger.

"Indulging in a fantasy," Andy whispered back, the tone escaping with a little sultry timbre he had no control over.

She laughed, her body shaking, "You fantasize about rubbing against me like a wayward dog in heat?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, moving closer, his groin now in contact with the fabric of her skirt. She surprised him when in a vindictive little greeting she pushed her ass back into him, her head tilting back so he could look into her eyes. They were remarkably green up close and her lips were curled around a smug, treacherous smile.

She pouted her red lips and then purred, "Does your fantasy include a year's worth of sexual harassment seminars?"

He grinned, "No."

"Then I suggest you remove your erection from my presence and I will simply put this incident down in my own personal book as you being once again an absolute fool."

Quickly he moved back, air once again between their bodies; he let his hand linger for a moment on her spine when he rounded the table, standing at her shoulder instead. Her eyes followed him, the green deepening with shadows; it was that special look where it was impossible to garner whether she was amused or pissed off – it was a look he thought suited her.

"You're without a doubt a depraved, despicable friend," she drawled, standing up straight and crossing her arms.

Andy smiled, "I'm sorry but there's something about you leaning against, well frankly anything that I find mostly stimulating."

She rolled her eyes, "Asshole."

Andy nodded cheekily, "Yeah."

"What are you doing here?"

"What – I need a special pass to enter the haunted corridors of I.A now?"

"Yees," she sing-songed, a little smirk at the corner of her mouth now.

Andy smiled and then shook his head, amused. He pointed over his shoulder, "Do you want me to pour you a cup?"

She nodded, eyes once again on the magazine.

With another headshake Andy went to the coffee machine, finding two coffee cups and pouring black liquid into both. Sharon gave a little smile when he offered her one cup, the smile deepening when she sipped.

"Ahhh," she sighed once her lips left the rim.

"Long day?" Andy asked her, sipping coffee as well – it warmed and he was pleased to find it was indeed Sharon who had made it; she had an inclination for making her coffee strong like no one else he knew.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed in answer, another sip and sigh.

Sharon sat down on the edge of the table now, one leg over the other, dangling, her head tilted fractionally back so she could regard him;  
Andy leaned towards her, one hand palm down on the table, trying to decipher what that small cheeky upturn of one corner of her mouth meant.

"You know," she started conversationally, the tone too innocent for Andy's liking, "I have a file with your name on it on my desk."

He arched an eyebrow, "Oh really?"

"Really," she said, the word caressed.

Andy took a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes in enjoyment – when he opened them again the half curved smile had blossomed into a full wide grin, her eyes crinkled as well. He smiled back. "Nothing's new then, the sun sets in the west."

"No, everything's the same old," she laughed in agreement.

Andy laughed as well, "Let me guess; Taylor?"

She shook her head, "Not even close."

"Chief Johnson?"

"No, no – I've never received a complaint from her; to tell you the truth I'm not sure she's even aware Internal Affairs exists."

Andy gave a shrug, looking into space and then back at Sharon with an a-ha look, "It's Provenza! I've been annoying him rather  
extraordinately today."

Sharon laughed again, "Oh no – he would never so much as set foot in these corridors let alone email me."

"Vice?"

"No," she shook her head, hair strands following the movement.

"Narcotics?"

"No," her lips trembled with a restrained laugh.

"Traffic?"

"Spot-on."

"What!" Andy sputtered; he had only mentioned Traffic as a joke. "You've got to be kidding me! What have I done? Heck; I haven't been near those neanderthals in months!"

Sharon neglected to answer him, instead she took a long slurp of her coffee, smiling around the rim briefly.

Andy glared at her, waiting impatiently for her to explain why Traffic was filing reports against him.

She emitted another satisfied hum, her teeth white when she simply smiled back at him.

Andy arched an eyebrow at her, tilting his head to indicate she should continue to explain.

"They classified the complaint under reckless endangerment of governmental property," she told him, her words a puzzle.

"Huh?"

She laughed, "Honey – it's practically nothing; I'm just having you on."

Andy gave her a long look, "You're awful."

She grinned, "Yes, you tell me so occasionally."

Andy shook his head.

They both drank a bit more coffee, eying each other with half-amused, half-gleeful smiles.

"What's this about you annoying Provenza?" she asked him.

Andy smiled widely, "Oh, I've been putting things on his desk all day – it annoys the crap out of him."

"You mean to tell me that all it takes?"

"Oh yeah."

They both laughed.

"You still owe me," she hummed, leaning to the side and she tilted her head in an adorably fashion.

Andy stared, "What?"

"You still owe me something equal to skybox tickets," she patted the front of his chest, her hand flat and her smile wicked.

"Oh – yeah – about that," Andy started, trying to come up with something and then with a wicked thought, he leaned down, his mouth against  
her ear, "you know, you can always cash in for something much more enjoyable, huh? A little tumble – I'll make it worth your while. You, me and that monstrosity of a desk you have in your office? Huh, what do you say?"

He could feel her breath against his throat, warm. Her voice was amused and rich when she answered, "Are you positive you can get it up for that?"

"I'm positive."

"And you have time for such a strenuously exercise now?" her voice turned even more throaty with sarcasm, "You are not currently investigating why a photographer fell to his death? Why last I heard you were supposed to be buried mountain deep in reports."

Andy merely gave her a cheeky smile, one eyebrow raised, "We could always do a quickie?"

"I'd rather sit through a ten-hour long departmental meeting concerning budget."

"Ouch," Andy leaned back enough so he could watch her eyes, a hand to his chest in mock-hurt.

Her teeth showed, the smile dangerous.

Andy sighed dramatically, "Oh well, you're missing out."

"What a shame," she retorted dryly and the she took her magazine and laid it out in her lap, eyes on it; she waved her hand in his direction,"Why don't you scatter off down to the trenches – go annoy Provenza."

Andy saluted her even if she did not look up again, "Whatever you say Ma'am."

On his way out of the room he turned around and said, "Thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime," she replied, obviously not aware he was not thinking about the coffee.

Andy grinned – and then decided to go down and annoy Provenza some more.

…

**/HEAD OVER HEELS/**

Andrew Flynn watched porn unfold on one of the screens in electronics, bated breath and an urge to run a hand along his inner thigh; the scene on the monitor evolved, shitty dialogue swiftly replaced by action. He couldn't help but grin at the scenario, a prim schoolteacher in a too short black skirt being bent across a desk by Chris Mundy acting as student. Moaning absurdum commenced, clothes quickly being swept aside.

Andy was casually lounging in a chair, his feet up on the table next to the monitors. He followed the happenings on the screen as he held his phone to his ear, waiting for Sharon Raydor to answer the rather impromptu call.

"What do you want?" her sleek voice came through the line, a little huff of annoyance in it.

Andy tilted his chair a bit backwards, corking his head to the side so he could better follow the action on the screen, "Good day to you too, miss sunshine."

He could practically hear the eye-roll over the line.

"Andy?"

"Yeah," he hummed, his mouth opening when the video on the screen chose a close-up of the couple.

"What in the world are you doing?" she paused and then in a low, almost shocked voice, "are you with somebody?"

Andy laughed, "Don't worry, I'm just watching porn."

There was dead silence for a second and then her voice came on again, clearly annoyed now, "You're watching," she whispered the next word in a hiss, "porn at work?"

Andy hummed, "Oh yeah – I've been watching it all day; it's come to the point where I'm considering clawing out my eyeballs."

She snickered, a high tone and then in an smug voice,"Lieutenant– that's the worst lie I've ever heard come out of your mouth."

"True," he relented, "This must be the most titillating thing I've ever done at work to date."

He pictured how she would quirk an eyebrow at him and tilt her head marginally to the side, amused at his expense.

She spoke, the tone trembling as if she was holding back a laugh, "I feel sorry for you, I really do – what with so meager experiences of having fun at work that you've come to the point where porn does it."

Andy simply groaned in reply.

"I'm so pleased you still have wits enough to articulate your thoughts into comprehensible sentences," her voice had turned remarkably dry now; a special tone that always seemed to hover between humor and superiority.

Andy smiled, "You're in an extraordinary good mood today, huh. Did someone shoot your pet-detective?"

"Ha-ha – no my pet Elliot is just dandy."

"He sure is," Andy said, keeping his tone deliberately suggestive, "dandy like no one's business."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, the tone dripping like melting candle wax; Andy took a deep inhalation, trying to imagine  
what she was doing. Was she in the break room? – drinking coffee? In her office? Oh – he would stick to the office he thought, his mouth automatically parting in a smug grin.

"Sooo," she drew the word out and he imagined how her lips parted slowly around the vocals – he imagined a lot of things actually; the way she would sit on her desk, legs crossed and her skirt inching higher and higher, "you wanted to double up on the fun? Is that why you called me in the middle of your depraved porn-ogling?"

"Mm-hmm – there's this prissy bespectacled schoolteacher who reminds me of you in an extremely uncanny fashion.  
Bouncy breasts, if you know what I mean."

"Oh god, you're a study in itself, lieutenant!"

"You can come study me any time you want, Capt'n," he retorted.

"Let me guess; there's a desk involved in your beloved porn scene?"

"Mm-hmm."

"How utterly cliché."

"Indeed."

"What about a ruler?" her voice turned to a breathy hum Andy found absolutely alluring even if she was simply making a show out of teasing him.

"Uh," he purred, "This is creepy! Are you watching porn too, Capt'n?"

She laughed and Andy laughed with her.

Next he heard her breathe heavily, the tone throaty and then she said with a sultry hum, "My lamp's broken."

"Oh – how absolutely dreadful, doll," Andy went along, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"You should come fix it, Mister."

"You want me to cum while I fix it as well?"

She moaned dramatically and even if it was only in spite he felt excited, "god –woman," he groaned back in equal theatrics.

"You came, huh? – unexpectedly and quite prematurely?" she jabbed at him, laughter simmering just under the surface of the tone.

"Yeah – it's made quite a mess," he delivered back, "shit, it's everywhere."

She giggled now, "You're the worst! The absolute worst, lieutenant."

They both broke down in laughter, hers a warm, high noise on the phone.

"I could fix your lamp though – I'm very good at fixing stuff," Andy husked over the phone – he heard the door into electronics opening; it was probably Provenza coming back with coffee or something. Andy did not bother turning around, instead he continued to talk over the phone, "I'm pretty neat with multitasking as well, why I could have you -"

Someone blew hot air onto his neck, a finger running across his cheek in a slow trail.

Andy jumped in his chair and dropped the phone from his ear in surprise; it clattered to the floor and he was beyond stunned to find Sharon standing before him, her eyes full of delight and her mouth curved in the widest smile he had ever seen grace her face.

"Boo," she breathed through a little fit of giggles.

Andy shook his head and smiled back just as broadly, "Shit, you scared the crap outta me."

She continued to giggle, one hand going to her stomach and her eyes closing.

Provenza chose that exact moment to enter electronics and Andy watched as the old man stopped midstride in shock, his complexion turning a pale shade at the sight of Sharon Raydor giggling while the room buzzed with moaning sounds from the porn movie.

Andy couldn't help but chuckle; the sight of Provenza standing with a popcorn bowl looking flabbergasted and  
Sharon none the wiser to the intrusion still in her little fit of laughter – it was a precious scene, he thought.

Provenza coughed loudly after a second, eyes narrowing in a swift flash – directed at both Andy and Sharon.

Sharon stopped giggling her eyes going slightly wide before she looked over her shoulder, regarding Provenza with an enquiring eyebrow, "Yes, lieutenant?" she asked him, one hand now at her hip, "Do you need something?"

Andy grinned and wondered what was going on inside Provenza's head; he looked ready to implode – eyes going wide and his mouth opening and closing.

"Um, right – no, – I'll just come back later," Provenza said and then with a derisive wave in their direction, he said in a snide voice, "and you can go back to whatever you're doing." He turned on his heel and went out of the room but not before giving Andy the strangest glower.

Andy sighed, "Shit – he's going to pester me nonstop now. I'll never hear the end of it."

Sharon barked a short laugh, eyes on him still full of humor, "That one really doesn't like me."

Andy nodded in agreement, "Yeah – I think it's a bit too much for him, your presence in consort with porn. Might have exploded his brain."

"It's most certainly exploded yours," she retorted and he gave her a cheeky smile in return.

Sharon giggled again.

Andy gave her a gentle smile, "See – porn cheered you up."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, just what I needed to take the dull out of an otherwise boring work day."

They shook their heads at each other and then for Provenza's sake they exited electronics; they found Provenza outside the room still looking pale as a ghost – Sharon gave both of them a cheerful wave, her voice dry "Enjoy your movies, boys."

Andy watched her walk away, down the corridor, a definite sway to the walk.

He sighed loudly.

"Mind out of the gutter, buddy!" Provenza chided him, "That road only leads to trouble."

Andy regarded Provenza, not able to keep a grin off his face, "Trouble is underrated."

Provenza rolled his eyes, "Oh god, what has that woman done to you!"

Andy shook his head, "Nothin'"

Provenza took a handful of popcorn and said while he chewed, the voice muffled, "What did she want, anyway? Is she on a hunt?"

"Nope, nothing of the sort - she just had a question regarding a report I wrote last month,"Andy lied.

Provenza rolled his eyes and then with a sour expression he walked back into electronics again, muttering under his breath, "Idiot."

Andy smiled and followed his partner, "Hey, I didn't invite her – she simply showed up!"

"I don't understand what it is with you and your unhealthy obsession with internal affairs."

Andy snuck his hand into the popcorn bowl and stuffed the snack into his mouth; he said around a mouthful, "There's nothing to understand – I like annoying her."

Provenza gave a loud, dramatic sigh, turned to a chair and sat down; ignoring Andy for now.

Andy shrugged and sat down again, picking his phone up from the floor; he leaned back in the chair and watched the screen again, his thoughts however in an entirely different location.

…

**/CRITICAL MISSING/**

Andrew Flynn stormed through corridors and doors, a hard angry expression on his face. His insides felt like thunder and darkness come to life; it was no wonder everyone scattered from his sight like he was the devil incarnate come to take away their life. Storming into I.A headquarters, Andy stopped up barely able to catch his breath before he pointed his finger menacingly at the Elliot kid. The kid was the only occupant of the spacious room, standing with a report in his hands looking absolutely ridiculous, a wary look in his eyes when he noticed Andy.

"Where is she?" Andy barked at the kid who looked downright frightened now. Andy noticed his own hands shook, the finger pointed at the detective shaking – he wondered when was the last time he had felt this worked up. He couldn't remember.

"Um," Elliot stammered, eyes flickering around the room as if he sought an exit.

"Where is she?" Andy repeated, this time in a warning growl as he took a step closer to the detective.

"The toilet," the kid answered promptly, pointing towards the hallway.

Andy quickly spun on his feet and strode out into the hallway again – anger spurned on by everything; it boiled when he stood still and it burned when he moved. Shit, he thought – he had no incentive to cool down, no reason to stop up and comprehend the situation before he acted. Frankly he did not give a crap; he had one goal in mind.

Andy kicked the door open into the women's bathroom finding Sharon Raydor inside in front of the mirror examining herself, a cautious hand to the back of her head. She jumped in fright at his intrusion – eyes quickly turning downright aggravated when she turned to look at him.

"Lieutenant!" she scolded as she crossed her arms, a definite tilt of derision to her stance, "what are you doing?"

Andy closed the door behind him with a softer push than before, approaching her – he scrutinized her from top to toe; she looked unharmed.

"Is it true?" he asked, his voice trembling when he came within an arm's length of her.

Her eyes widened a fraction, a small panicked look before she was composed again a second later and instead she directed a frown at his close proximity. She took a little step away from him, her arms even more firmly crossed. "Is what true?" she asked, obviously not feeling up for honesty today, defensive already.

Andy grumbled, trying to exhale the air that felt trapped in his lungs, "Sergeant Kearns down from third said there was an incidence earlier, involving you? Something about a rookie getting violent with you?"

She pursed her lips, "You shouldn't trust the grapevine to get facts straight, Andy – you know that."

Oh, she was going to be difficult.

"What happened?" Andy pushed the words out of his gritted teeth, trying to get her to look at him; she avoided his eyes and instead she seemed to look inwards.

"It's nothing – it's been dealt with."

"Who?" he managed to get out of his clenched jaw, his hands turning to fists by his side.

"It's inconsequential, lieutenant."

"It matters – a great deal – to me," he paused, noted she was still tight-lipped, "Spit it out, Captain – or I'll find detective Elliot and force him to tell me. Hell I'll know by the end of the day anyway."

She rolled her eyes, "Stop being childish – it doesn't concern you."

Andy glared at her, now crossing his arms as well.

"I'm not disclosing a name to you. I know very well what will happen then. We are not repeating past mistakes, lieutenant."

"I'm merely concerned – and I have every right to be. There's no need to worry about me – I'm not about to go ballistic. I just need to know what happened – otherwise it's going to go around in my head all day and I'll imagine something that's even worse than what really happened."

She looked away, "It's just a little bump," she touched the back of her head.

Andy gritted his teeth once more and forced himself to not yell at her, "I've had a shitty day, Sharon; don't make it any worse."

She looked up, an angry almost exasperated look now in her eyes, "Oh, I'm sorry – I didn't know I needed to cater to your every whim and emotion."

Andy rolled his eyes, "We had a shitty case, that's all."

"Yes, surprise – I've had a shitty day too."

"Hey, if you wanna yell at me, go ahead."

The air seemed to go out of her, she sighed and then, "It was an accident – sort of. I got pushed – hit my head on the wall. He's already suspended, pending further investigation. There's no need to discuss it with you."

"Who?"

There was a short moment of silence and Andy watched as she sighed and then she opened her mouth, "I need you to promise me you'll stay calm?"

"I promise," Andy lied.

"I was investigating an OIS of Sergeant Keith – the one from Narcotics you abhor," she paused briefly, a self-aware smile on her lips, "he fired his weapon while drunk and off duty. Well, he doesn't like me one bit and showed up for work today, drunk again. I went to confront him and things escalated."

Andy turned on his heel; that was all he needed to know.

"Andy," Sharon called after him in an angry tone, "you promised, you idiot."

Andy resolutely ignored her as he stormed out of the bathroom, rage once again livid inside him; he knew what was going to happen now and he knew it would end in some kind of remark on his permanent record but he did not care. He headed for the elevator in a half sprint, knowing he had to be quick before Sharon caught up with him and tried to talk some sense into him as she would put it.

He heard the click of her heels as she followed him, the puff of air that preceded an angry, "Lieutenant Flynn!" Andy hopped into one of the elevator doors, two uniforms already in there, eying him curiously.

Andy pushed the floor for narcotics and then the button that made the elevator doors close just in front of Sharon; he caught the exasperated look in her eyes but moreover he found himself finding her looking vulnerable, the way her mouth slightly parted in horror and the vivid color of something in her eyes he could not decipher.

The narcotics break room was full of people, a ruckus that was usually only on behalf of bringing in a street of gang-bangers. This time however there was a flurry of unrest in the room and Andy noticed how a few of the officers who recognized him stood aside with uncertainty; they obviously knew why he was here and had yet to make up their minds whether they should stop him or not. Fortunately there was no one ranking higher than Andy himself so he simple glared, growled at the few who were too slow to move out of his way. It worked wonders, a clear path to the middle of the room where a couple of young sergeants were facing Keith – the dirtbag comfortable in a chair, his loud voice reeking of inebriation and a cup of coffee in his right hand.

Andy fumed at the sight and he briefly wondered why no one had kicked the rookie home yet; it didn't matter – as far as Andy was concerned it just made his next action that more feasible.

Andy enjoyed the vivid realization that appeared on the dirtbag's face when he recognized Andy, eyes widening within a second, horror in the depths and a strangled cry when Andy barreled his way through, a hand fisted around the shirt collar of the guy.

Momentum carried the bastard backwards, Andy throwing his weight into overturning the chair – the idiot was just short of banging his head into the floor, landing with a slam onto the floor, the chair beneath him and Andy above, towering. A well-placed knee in the guy's abdomen and it was a locked position, warm coffee on the guys arm and on the floor.

Andy growled, lips parting in a snarl, "You like abusing women, huh."

The idiot shook his head, trying to wriggle out of the grip.

Andy leaned closer, an angry whisper, "If you ever look at her again – if you ever say anything to her or so much as glance in her direction, I'm going to make sure I empty my whole clip in your goddamn ball sack – you understand?"

The bastard swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing up and down, "The bitch - "

Andy gripped tighter around the collar, shaking the guy into the floor hard, "It's not a negotiation, you scumbag. You're out of line – and I'll personally strangle you if you ever do anything to her again! You understand that you fucking neanderthal!"

"Lieutenant Flynn," Taylor's voice came in amidst the crowd, hard and demanding attention.

Andy let go of the creep with an extra shove and got to his feet, brushing off the lint from the front of his trousers. "Yeah," he looked back over his shoulder, finding Taylor standing with arms crossed and an annoyed expression. Sharon stood behind him, a little to the left, her complexion white – from either anger or embarrassment, Andy couldn't tell. She completely avoided his eyes – avoided looking at anyone he noticed.

He had to give it to her; it was a smart move to bring along someone who knew Andy well. Taylor did – they had after all worked together for nearly a decade before the sleazebag had stabbed Andy in the back.

Taylor narrowed his eyes and looked at the scumbag still scrawled on the floor, "You better be out of this building in under two minutes, Brent. Your Captain will surely give you a call tomorrow," Taylor paused and then with an arched eyebrow, "chop, chop."

The idiot flew to his feet, easily out of the room before anyone could utter another word. Andy noticed Sharon had left as well – he sighed; she was never going to forgive him.

One by one everyone left the break room leaving only Taylor and Andy.

Taylor shook his head, his mouth changing between a tight line and a little quirk upwards of one end, as if he couldn't decide whether he found the whole situation amusing or outrageous.

"Congratulation, you bastard," Taylor said never the one to miss an opportunity to be a brat about Andy screwing up, "You've once again managed to send yourself off to anger management class."

Andy shrugged, "Yeah – I felt it was time for a brush-up course."

Taylor rolled his eyes, "She's going to make life hell for you from now on, you know that don't you?"

Andy spread his arms out, palms upside down and a wide smile, "She'll forgive me."

Taylor snorted, "Ha – then you've obviously forgotten what happened the last time you went all caveman on her behalf."

Andy sighed; he would rather forget. "It doesn't matter."

Taylor nodded, and Andy took it for agreement.

They stood for a second in silence before they both departed, Andy going back to his own murder room and Taylor slithering off to whatever nest he came from, a little passing nod between them. Sometimes you found common ground when you least expected it – Andy was sure anyone but Taylor would have had put him on mandatory leave without pay for at least a couple of weeks. Anger management class; that he could do with his eyes closed and with one foot on the ground.

No; the tricky thing was how to smooth things over with Sharon.  
…

More to come – eventually ;)


	2. 2

**/BORDERLINE/**

Andrew Flynn yawned for the umpteenth time, two tall coffee cups and a brown bag of pastries balanced in his arms as he leaned back against a concrete column in the underground parking garage at headquarters. It was a quarter to six and he knew – having bribed the night security guard – that Sharon Raydor came in at an ungodly hour on Thursdays apparently – he would have to ask her what this was about some other time but not today; today was about trying to get her to acknowledge him. Why, he would gladly give his right arm for just one little acknowledging smile.

So he waited trying to balance his patience along with the goodies from her favorite bakery, ignoring the strange looks he received from other officers coming into work; he glared at some and smiled when they hurried past him with wary looks.

Andy heard her tell-tale high heels before he saw her come into view. He put on a wide, charming smile then and watched as she came closer; she was in a black pantsuit today and a frown that turned positively poisonous when she saw him. There was no amused arched eyebrow or little smile bestowed in his direction; she outright ignored him, her eyes quickly sweeping past his form, exclusively focused on the elevator.

He sighed – this was going to be a lot harder than he had previously thought.

"Good morning, Captain," he said his voice chipper as he put one of the coffee cups in her path, just in front of her, "This warm and absolutely wonderful coffee is just for you – special order and brought by yours truly."

She stopped short, eyes narrowed on the cup in his hand as if it was somehow infectious, "I've already had coffee." Her voice was undeniably chill.

Andy smiled nonetheless, ignoring her efforts to obviously annoy him, "Never can have too much coffee, now can you, huh. You know what they say; coffee is good for the soul – never can have too much of that, erm, soul-brightener, eh?"

"Yes, you can," she snipped, now giving him a glare. Coincidently he now stood in front of her, baring her path to the elevator and holding the coffee cup between them like a barrier; he was almost certain she wouldn't shoot him when they had witnesses on the security cameras in the parking garage.

"C'mon, Captain," he tried again, the smile on his face starting to feel strained, "you love coffee."

She arched an eyebrow derisively, "I love being able to go to work without you obstructing my path, lieutenant – now move out of my way."

Andy's smile wavered and he quickly stepped aside letting her pass. She strode forward, her heels even louder against the concrete ground than before and he was even sure her eyes glowed red for a short second. Andy followed her to the elevator like a harassed dog on a leash, caught between feeling contrite and angry – with every step he took however, he became more and more angry and less apologetic.

"Just take the goddamn coffee, Sharon," he grumbled at her back when he felt on the verge of exploding. She was being ridiculously difficult, not accepting his little gift of truce. "It's not as if I have poisoned it – even though I'm sure you drink poison for goddamn breakfast, what with this cheerful positive attitude you have going on."

Andy watched her push the elevator button with an angry push and as they waited in silence he couldn't avoid looking at her in profile; he narrowed his eyes and made peace with simply glaring at her. Maybe he could glare some sense into her.

"It's just stupid coffee," he sighed and he knew she would take the proffered coffee when he saw her lips pout then followed by a defeated sigh.

She still stared straight ahead but her arm shot out, palm out for the cup, "Alright, give me the stupid coffee. If that will help you shut up, I'll gladly take it."

Andy grinned and delivered the cup into her hands; he watched her take a little sip and he smiled wider when she tried to hide her surprise – it was spiced with just the hint of chocolate and cinnamon.

She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye and Andy wondered whether it was still hostile or if it was only in his imagination; she pursed her lips further, eyes glinting with something that could be malice.

"What do you want?" yes, there was still a note of hostility in her voice.

Andy shrugged, "Nothing – can't I be nice without you blaming me for something?"

"You're only nice when you want something," she pointed out, taking another sip of her coffee; quite unbeknownst to herself he figured because she looked positively annoyed when she swallowed the beverage as if she had forgotten she was mad at his offered coffee as well.

Andy furrowed his brow, "Yeah, I've always got ulterior motives, I'm a right bastard," he paused, inhaled and then, "Give me a break, Sharon. Shit. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"

"You haven't even apologized one time, you idiot" she simply retorted with a roll of her eyes and then she quickly stepped into the elevator when the doors opened up. Andy followed, now grumbling under his breath.

The elevator doors closed and Andy wondered whether she was intentionally trying his patience; he consented himself with glaring at the display, the number slowly going up.

After a little moment of unbearable silence she coughed and then asked, voice now too casual, "What's in the bag?"

Andy looked back at her, catching her eyeing the pastry bag in his hand.

"Nothing," Andy replied nonchalantly only to annoy her, his eyes narrowed at her – it only managed to make her lips twitch into a bemused smile. The action confused him to the extreme; why when he was nice to her she was angry and now that he was being obviously difficult she smiled at him – it made no sense whatsoever.

"Don't be a baby," she huffed, a little strangled tint of laughter in her voice now.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Baby! I'm not the baby – you are the baby."

"Excuse me?"

"You've barred me access to your floor out of spite – I've been looking like a complete fool the last month every time I've tried to get in through the door, standing there and being denied access as if I was some lowly officer from traffic. I had to tell people I was barred from hell because I'd gotten too many traffic tickets. A month, Sharon! A freaking month." He paused, trying to get his breath, "not to mention that time in the cafeteria where I waved at you and you didn't wave back! You're mean."

Her smile turned to that lopsided expression that told him she was amused.

"It's called self-preservation, honey," she said, her voice now sweet.

Andy quirked an eyebrow at her, "Oh really – I call it a devious ploy to prevent me from actually apologizing to you in person – an evil ploy to humiliate me in front of my peers," he stepped closer to her and then heatedly, "I call it revenge."

"Oh so this now is you apologizing – officially?" she gave a nod to the coffee cup in her hand, "bribing yourself into my good graces with a simple coffee?"

"Coffee never did anything to anyone," Andy defended himself.

"You could have phoned me, you know?" her voice turned carefully neutral now.

"Well," Andy explained, "I was afraid you wouldn't answer."

Sharon rolled her eyes.

Andy smiled and then with flair he opened the pastry bag so she could look inside, "Yes I'm bribing you – and I've got you blueberry scones from that place you adore," he looked up and caught her eyes crinkled, "Make a notice, Captain, that's plural; four scones to be exact – to be consumed by you and only you."

Her smile turned soft and it was the first time in almost a month that she looked at him with genuine affection. Andy smiled back.

"I stood in line for a goddamn hour to get you all this fancy-pancy stuff not to mention the price – goddamn, Sharon, that place is not for people with my income."

She laughed and looked him directly in the eye, "You and I both know you never stand in line for anything – you flash your badge like some badly-written cop out of a b-movie."

Andy shrugged seeing no point in denying the obvious; her smile turned smug in return.

"So," Andy ventured "are we good?"

"No – I want a formal letter of apology on my desk this afternoon, with a detailed explanation of what you did and why it was wrong. Grammar-checked – and handwritten too."

"Sha-ron," Andy mock-whined.

"We're good," she relented in between coffee sips – her smile turned serious. "But Andy – it can't ever happen again –okay? Next time you'll end up being forcibly retired and I won't lift a finger to help you."

Andy quickly interrupted, "Yeah, yeah – I know the deal. I need to control my anger issues better in the future and all that jazz."

Her lips pursed, her pout a mix between sullen and annoyed.

Andy gently pushed his shoulder against hers, his head tilted and a wide smile, "I'm just watching out for you but I promise I'll try to do better in the future."

She sighed, "That's not very reassuring," she paused and then, "Why does you watching out for me always end with you being sent off to anger management class and someone with a bloody nose?"

"I didn't give the bastard a bloody nose."

"No –not this time."

Andy waggled his eyebrows, "Hey – at least we have interesting stories to tell the grandkids, huh."

"You're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot?" he cheekily retorted.

She agreed with another laugh, "Yes."

The elevator dinged, it was Andy's floor; he gave the bag to Sharon and then stood in the doorway of the elevator, eyeing her.

"What?" she said, a little shy smile.

"You look beautiful today," he said to her and enjoyed her pleased smile and the deepening of green in her eyes.

"If you were this sweet and considerate every day, lieutenant, I'd daresay your permanent record would be spot-less."

Andy nodded and smiled, "True – though then you and I would never see each other."

She laughed.

"How are your connections with Captain West from Traffic?" Andy asked, trying to make his voice sound innocent.

"Contrary to popular belief," Sharon started her voice dry, "I do not have sinister connections to the traffic division – I simply try to avoid getting into car accidents while I'm on duty. That's why they like me."

Andy huffed, "Right."

She smiled and then gave a little glare to him preventing the elevator doors from closing, "Goodbye, lieutenant."

Andy smiled, "Have a splendid day, Captain."

She gave a little wave and the elevator doors closed; Andy smiled to himself – at least now he did not have to worry about getting on her good side anymore.

"Why are you here so early?" Provenza asked him when Andy came into the murder room – the old man was the only one there.

"Had some business to take care of," Andy answered, trying to contain a cheerful smile.

"Oh god," Provenza belabored, "what's wrong with you?"

"Huh?"

"That big smile on your face – it's disturbing," the old man munched on a celery stick, "You're up to something? That's it, right?"

Andy rolled his eyes, "You're the one chewing on that awful stuff," he pointed at the celery, "you must be up to something."

They continued to grumble at each other, Andy drinking his own spiced coffee while Provenza continued to munch on his precious celery sticks.

...

**/NO GOOD DEED/**

"The coast is clear," Andrew Flynn said in a sarcastic drawl to Sharon Raydor as she hovered outside the entrance to his murder room, surreptiously glancing inside to make sure no one was there but him. Andy was sitting in his chair, simultaneously eating rice from a china box and reading through a little nest of reports on his desk; the murder room was otherwise empty.

Sharon displayed an awkward, crooked smile and then sauntered inside the room, a tupperware container in her hands that she did a poor job of hiding behind her back.

"There's rumor going around that some bad-tempered lieutenant is handing out free take-away," she said with a tilted head, her eyes on the one unopened Chinese take-away box on Andy's desk and the opened one in his hands as she approached him, her lips parting in a sly smile.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, if you recall, I called you less than a minute ago with the invitation to join me – no need to roll out the drama."

"Drama – that's high coming from you," Sharon rolled her eyes in return and then imitated him, a deep growl, her lips pursed comically, "Hey Captain – I've gotta hostage situation down here, you wanna come help me?"

Andy shrugged with a smile, "Betcha you jumped out of your skin."

She glared at him, standing next to his desk now and being able to look down at him from her vantage point, "It is not a joking matter. You could simply have told me – nicely – that you had extra food and wanted me to join you for a take-away dinner."

"Nah – too boring."

"Yes – it's rather unusual for you to be considerate, lieutenant – especially without expecting something in return; so color me suspicious – what do you need since you're giving me food?"

"Well," he drawled, "now that you mention it, I do need you to get down on your knees before you are allowed to eat my take-away," he pointed at his lap, lifted an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Her lips twitched, "That's not happening, buddy."

"You can't blame me for trying."

"Yes, I can."

"Shh, woman – just eat your delicious food," he gave the china box to her and watched as she sat down on his desk, scooting his paperwork to the side and setting down the tupperware container next to her, opening up her china box and digging into it immediately with gusto.

Andy popped another spoonful of rice in his mouth and leaned back in his chair, his knee bumping into her crossed legs.

Sharon was already munching on her second mouthful of rice, her own spoon pointed at him in between lingering in her mouth; she gave a satisfied, appreciative hum, eyes sparkling.

"Are they starving you again?" Andy teased her, watching as she practically swallowed before chewing, her tongue briefly out to lick her bottom lip.

"I've been in budget meetings all day – you have no idea," she replied with a long-suffering sigh and Andy thought she did indeed look a bit tired – not a fact he would ever mention to her if he wanted to keep his balls; instead he groaned, "I feel for you."

She arched an eyebrow and then in a deep, sultry voice, "You always feel for me."

Andy shook his head, "Damn, you're something when you're hungry," he smirked, "I like it."

"Mm-hmm," she agreed around another mouthful of fried rice.

Andy munched on his own fried rice and then with a curious look to the tupperware container on his desk, he inched his chair towards his desk. He was in the middle of reaching out for the container when Sharon – out of nowhere – slapped his wrist rather harshly, "Nu-oh," she scolded him, "not before you've finished your dinner."

Andy looked up and caught her eyes, a humorous glint. "Really?" he said, voice dry.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed again, already on to another mouthful of rice.

Andy rolled his eyes and then they ate in silence for a moment.

"You know," Sharon voiced after her frenzy eating had lessened somewhat, "I've got a bone to pick with you."

"Huh?" Andy asked with his mouth full – he smiled when he caught her small disgusted look; she abhorred it when he spoke with his mouth full.

"Narcotics have been complaining about you," she explained, "again."

"What did I do this time? Look at them cross-eyed? Step on their little toes?"

"Something along those lines, yes."

"It's not my fault they are a bunch of cry-babies; do I need to hold their hands now as well? Cuddle them and pat them on the head when they actually don't screw up a crime scene?"

"Maybe you should just refrain from verbally attacking them in the middle of their own squadroom while Hollywood-division is visiting; I think that would solve most of your problems with other divisions in this building."

Andy laughed, "You should have seen it though; it was marvelous."

She tilted her head in disapproval, "If I had witnessed it, you idiot, I would have to come up with yet another punitive lesson for you, not to mention the paperwork I would once again have to endure due to your belittling of others."

"Uh," Andy smiled around a groan, "That sounds absolutely dirty; you know I love being punished by you."

She rolled her eyes, "Tone it down, Mister."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," he saluted her with the spoon.

She gave him a smile.

When they had both finished their fried rice, china boxes empty and in the trashcan, Andy clapped his hands together with a gleeful look at the tupperware container, "At last! What did you bring me this time?" he smiled eagerly, "please tell me you've baked it yourself and that it contains chocolate."

She laughed, "You've got it half right."

His glee disappeared, "I don't like where this is going."

"I did indeed bake it myself," she leaned forward and patted his knee in a bad attempt at consoling him.

"I don't like this at all," he pouted, the knowledge that it was not her infamous brownies in that container dampening his spirits.

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed in a strange sugary voice, her hair falling in front of her as she leaned even closer to him – why she would end up falling into his lap any second now if she leaned any further, "poor little baby," she ended with pursed lips; a feigned look of compassion.

Andy crossed his arms, "Well, I'm not hungry now."

Nonchalant she leaned back, took the container and put it in her lap. "What a shame," she sighed, her eyes on him with a dangerous dark glint, "I'll just have to eat them all by myself." She opened the lid and Andy saw her reach in and take out a pink colored macaron with black-brown crème.

"Pink?" he smirked, "You've got to be kidding me! You know this will definitely ruin your reputation when it gets out."

She bit into the little pink cake, a long satisfied hum escaping her mouth as she chewed; it did look delicious even if it was a ghastly color but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"Okay, okay – what flavor did you make that atrocious thing?" Andy relented after watching Sharon munch on the pink thing, eyes closed and hums coming from her throat that had nothing to with enjoying desert; at least not to him.

"Eat one and you'll find out," she told him, lips twitching as she offered him the container, her tongue out to lick her lips again.

Andy rolled his eyes but took a pink macaron nonetheless; he slowly turned it around in his hand, narrowing his eyes as he glared at it as if it had offended him. It had in some ways – he would rather be munching on brownies.

"Oh for heaven's sake, just eat it," Sharon huffed out, "I have your precious brownies at home; you can have the whole bunch tomorrow."

Andy looked away from the offensive pink macaron in his hand, feeling cheated, "You have brownies at home and you didn't bring them? What kind of monster are you?"

"I'm saving them for a proper occasion," she replied, voice sounding superior in that way she usually liked to lecture in, "And I thought you would like my macarons," the last was said with a pout.

Andy ignored her pretend-sad frown, "What proper occasion? I would think your favorite lieutenant saving a box of delicious fried rice with chicken for you would count as a proper occasion for giving said lieutenant brownies?"

"No, no," she shook her head with a smile, "A proper occasion entails you in my kitchen for at least two hours, concocting delicious Italian food for me to consume; nothing less will do." She couldn't contain her lips and they quirked upwards even if she was going for a serious expression.

Andy grinned, "Consider yourself properly dined tomorrow then."

She pouted, "I can't – not tomorrow."

"What – you have a date or something," he laughed until he realized she was silent and was directing a funny look at the half-eaten macaron in her hand.

"You've got a date," he sputtered, feeling both a bit overwhelmed and surprised; and remarkably curious about it.

She merely smiled – a strange, somewhat mysterious smile – and then she popped the half macaron in her mouth.

"Is this why you're baking goddamn pink macarons?" he shook his head. It made perfect sense now – of course only Sharon Raydor would concern herself with throwing a baking fit when she had a date, in pink colors just to add a little extra flair.

"You nervous?" Andy teased, "What - it's like the third date or something?"

"No," she replied, eyes narrowed as she gave him a confused look, "why would you say that?"

"Well," he drew the word out till she looked appropriately annoyed, "you've obviously been on some sort of whacky baking spree and you've become attached to the color pink even if I'm sure that's a repellant when you derive from the lower circles of hell. I'd daresay that would qualify as you being nervous."

She didn't reply but took another macaron out of her container, her eyebrows furrowed as she bit into it.

Andy scooted his chair closer, putting both of his hands down on her knees, a little soft caress with his thumbs just above her kneecaps. "Hey," he spoke softly and she looked at him, a look that was a cross between annoyance and fondness. Andy grinned, "We can always act out a pretend-date, you and me, huh? I'll tell you the do's and don'ts'. I'll even show you some moves? How about it?"

She laughed, "That's a terrible idea – unless I want to be a lecherous old man."

Andy took a firm grasp of her right leg, holding onto her as he tickled the backside of her knee lightly, "You are the worst. Here I give away my precious time to help you prepare and you shoot me down. Horrible – just horrible."

She interrupted him, a little giggle, "You're terrible at dates, Andy!"

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

Andy glared, "I've never heard you complain."

Her eyes widened, "That's because they are not dates – they are," she stopped short, obviously trying to think of a word to explain what it was when they got together over dinner.

"Yeah," Andy smirked, "they are playful dinner dates – just admit it – you've been dating me for years."

She shook her head, "They are friendly get-togethers – like family dinners." She smiled, satisfied.

Andy grinned, "That would be awkward – seeing how many times I've imagined you naked and sweating and moaning."

"You are bit of a sleazebag, yes," she smirked, "similar to a creepy cousin."

Andy shook his head, "You wound me, you really do. You're supposed to reciprocate and tell me about the times you've found me irresistible. Damn it, Sharon, with your tactlessness you're going to blow the date."

She lifted an eyebrow, a devious glint now in her eyes, "Sooo," she drawled and she imitated his voice again "I'll blow it alright."

She smiled and Andy smiled back; they both laughed when they couldn't keep the mask any longer.

"Seriously though - " she began when their laughter had died down, "you can make me dinner Thursday."

Andy nodded, "Candlelight, jazz music and all the usual stuff – why it'll be perfectly friendly."

Sharon smiled.

"So, who's the lucky guy?" Andy prodded, then paused, "Chick?"

She leaned close and stuck her tongue out at him before she answered. "I haven't a clue – Gavin has set me up on a blind date – apparently he's under the delusion that I need to 'get out there'." She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips now.

Andy grinned, "I hope you told Gavin you're not going for lawyers anymore."

"Gavin knows."

"Speaking of lawyers, what's Jack doing nowadays?" It was only as the words left his mouth he realized the mistake.

Her face closed in on itself, expressionless within a second, "I don't know," she said her voice neutral – she looked at her wrist, "I've gotta go."

"Sharon, I'm sorry – I didn't mean to upset - "

"It's alright," she said in a tight voice, already off his desk, sliding towards the exit. "We'll talk later," she said over her shoulder to him and then she breezed out of the murder room as if she was needed somewhere else.

Andy sighed; he had forgotten it was the one subject that he was not supposed to dig into to. Idiot, he thought. With another sigh he popped the yet uneaten macaron in his hand into his mouth, chewing as he wondered whether he should call her to apologize again. He found himself humming, the goddamn macaron was delicious.

"Why are you eating pink macarons?" Provenza asked, having managed to sneak up on Andy, the tupperware container with a dozen macarons still on Andy's desk.

Provenza leaned close, a narrowed look on the small cakes; he then looked at Andy with a scrutinized glare; "Are you sick?"

"They are delicious," Andy defended.

Provenza reached a hand out to take one.

Andy slapped his wrist, "Nope – you can't have them; they are mine."

Provenza looked to the ceiling with obvious annoyance.

"Uuuhhh, macarons," the chief said as she came strolling into the murder room, grapping one before Andy could protest.

Andy crossed his arms and sighed. He growled at Provenza, "Go ahead, take one too."

Provenza popped a whole macaron into his mouth, unable to chew without looking like a complete fool.

Andy grinned and said in a nonchalant voice, "Captain Raydor made them," he watched cheerfully as Provenza sputtered and turned a nice shade of pale; the old fool probably thought Sharon had poisoned them.

…

**/OVERKILL/**

"Your devil friend is here," Provenza groused, his eyes going from somewhere behind Andrew Flynn's head to his tumbler with whiskey, a dramatic sigh before he drowned the rest of the whiskey in the glass, "She looks pissed."

"What are you talking about?" Andy griped back as he looked over his shoulder, confused until his eyes latched onto a familiar figure in a black trench coat. "Oh, yeah she's pissed alright," Andy agreed when he noticed the rigidly crossed arms and the way her lips tightened when her searching gaze landed on him.

"Oh damn, she's coming over," Andy sighed, quickly putting on an innocent smile as he watched her stalk across the bar, eyes narrowed in an angry glare at him.

"What have you done now?" Provenza accused him.

"Shit, I haven't done anything! When in the world would I have time to do anything?" Andy complained, "I've been busy – what with your mad as a hatter friend trying to shoot up the entire murder room."

Provenza glared back, "He's not my friend."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Andy drawled back, "I thought after that whole exchanging of gun-purses it was a sure deal."

"Oh go to hell," Provenza fired back.

"Yeah, hell's ascending on me alright," Andy managed to whisper back before Sharon came to a stop next to their table.

"Are you a complete idiot?" she greeted Andy with a snarl, completely ignoring the presence of Provenza.

"Excuse me," Andy said, feeling there was important context he was missing; he searched his brain for anything he might have done to offend her since the last time they had talked – it was impossible; he had been on his best behavior. Well bar that incident with Vice the other day but she couldn't possibly know about that.

Provenza looked gleeful now, smiling into his whiskey – he probably took enjoyment from watching Andy being in trouble.

"You are technically still on call, aren't you" Sharon ground out between her teeth, hands on her hips, "Which means you are supposed to be reachable by phone!" she stopped briefly, eyes narrowing even further and then she continued, her voice sounding even more heated, "You are a lieutenant, are you not? Not some rookie just out of the academy."

Andy shook his head in disbelief, quickly patting the pockets of his trousers and then his suit jacket slung over the back of the bench; they were empty but for his wallet and badge.

Shit.

Instead of apologizing though, he glared back – she had never been this fussy about a crappy phone before. Her unjustified anger annoyed him so he directed a sarcastic drawl her way, "Yeah – sorry, Captain – I think I might have forgotten my phone when some lunatic decided to shoot my murder room to pieces. Give me a break."

Her frown deepened, "Exactly the reason why I tried to get a hold of you."

"Well, I'm so sorry you couldn't get a hold of me," he gritted, his jaw clenched now, "but I've been busy. I'm sure your buddy Kershaw can tell you all there is to know about the shooting – no need to pester me."

Andy smiled but only because she looked ready to stomp her foot at him in exasperation.

"Oh, just shut up for a second," she pointed her finger at him, "I'm off duty and on vacation, I don't know any damn thing about what happened. I just received a call from the Chief – and you know what! I spent the whole car ride to central trying to reach you because no one knew what had happened. A shooting on third floor and two casualties and I thought you were dead." She ended her tirade sounding almost breathless.

"Oh," Andy said, feeling as if he had gotten the wind knocked out of him, "well, I'm fine."

"I can see that," she said her voice more controlled now but there was still a snip of anger in it.

Provenza shook his head and then stood up. "I'm touched by your concern for my wellbeing as well, Captain – seeing I was the one who would have been dead and not Flynn here."

Sharon gave him a flat stare, "I'm glad to see you up and about, lieutenant."

Provenza saluted her sloppily, a sly smile one his lips. "You want a glass of wine to calm your nerves, Captain?" the old man offered and then with another smirk, "before you start a riot?"

Sharon glared at Provenza now, "I'm officially on duty in ten minutes, what do you think lieutenant?"

Provenza made a funny 'yikes' expression, shaking his head at Andy before he sauntered up to the bar to get himself another whiskey.

"C'mon, just calm down, Sharon," Andy said to her with a gentle smile hoping she wouldn't throw a fit. He was relieved when she blew out a sigh, anger quickly evaporating from her body stance.

"Andy," she said her voice sounding brittle, "I couldn't get a hold of you and I had this strange feeling and - " she stopped, taking another inhalation, "I panicked." Andy could distinguish the miniature signs that she was trying to control her emotions, the way she moved her hands behind her back to hide that they were trembling and the little tell-tale sign of her mouth pursing only to flatten out again in a line. Her complexion even seemed more pale than usual.

"Hey," he said, standing up, "I'm fine," he laid a hand on her shoulder; she was shivering, her eyes covered by a film of water now.

She sniffed once, "I'm so mad at you right now."

Andy gave her a soft smile, "I'm perfectly alright."

Her answering smile was tremulous and she immediately pulled him into a brief but intense hug, her breath hot on his neck and her arms fully around his body; "I'm sorry," she whispered as she let go.

Andy rubbed her arm and then sitting down again on the bench, he scooted inwards making room for her beside him; she sat down, close to him and with a little bemused shake of her head.

"I'm sorry too," Andy told her, snaking his arm under hers and giving her a gently push shoulder against shoulder, "I completely forgot my phone on my desk – and now our murder room is a crime scene; we kinda got thrown out after our depositions."

Sharon nodded, her eyes warm, "I'm just glad I found you."

Andy smiled back and then sobered catching Provenza standing at the bar ordering drinks.

"He's pretty out of it though, the poor thing," he gave a nod to the bar and Provenza.

Sharon nodded, eyes on Provenza for a short second as well before she looked back at Andy.

"So, why is Kershaw conducting the I.A. investigation into the shooting?"

"It's called delegating, lieutenant. Lieutenant Kershaw is very much capable and he's more than ready to take on a larger case," Sharon explained, her voice sounding rehearsed in such a way that Andy suspected he was not the first to have asked her; she had probably been forced to explain that to an irate Chief of Police on more than one account.

"Then why are you officially on duty in," he looked at his watch, "8 minutes?"

She sighed, "The Chief of Police called me personally, expressly ordered me to supervise the case."

"So, the Chief doesn't like Kershaw, huh. You know, I don't like Kershaw either."

"Of course you don't."

"No really, he bugs me."

She gave him a long look, "Every I.A officer bugs you, Andy."

He grinned, "Yeah – even you."

She smiled, "Especially me."

"Ahem," Provenza said returning to the table, putting down a glass of sparkling water in front of the Captain, sitting down with his own new whiskey glass, "So you two done with your little conspiracy-chat?"

Andy rolled his eyes.

Sharon gave Provenza a polite smile, "Thank you for the water, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, you owe me ten."

Sharon's smile wavered slightly, "I'll remember that the next time you happen upon a traffic ticket and need to visit my office."

Provenza gave her a tight smile.

Andy was not so sure this was a good idea, these two at the same table and sharing the same air; Sharon now sitting rigidly beside him, an awkward hand around the water glass, Provenza was mumbling something into his whiskey glass, looking morose; Andy wavered between wanting to cheer his buddy up and then simply enveloping Sharon in another hug.

Andy took a sip from his cranberry juice and then in an attempt to start a conversation, "So, you were saying something about a vacation, Captain?"

Sharon looked dumfounded at him for a long moment and then, "Oh, yes. The Chief forced me to take two whole weeks off."

Provenza looked up from his whiskey with interest, "Forced vacation? Why?" he sounded eager and Andy figured the grumpy idiot probably thought Sharon used 'vacation' as a nice term for forced mandatory leave without pay.

Sharon shook her head, a little smile at the corner of her mouth; she obviously knew what Provenza was implying. "I've stacked up so much overtime during the course of this year that the Chief saw fit to send me on vacation instead of actually paying my overtime – apparently he thinks two weeks full pay will be cheaper."

Provenza arched an eyebrow, disbelief in his smile, "How much overtime can you accumulate in Internal Affairs?"

Andy joined in with a smirk, "How can you accumulate overtime at all when all you do is shuffle paper?"

Sharon looked between them, her head tilted and her voice saccharine when she answered, "Have I ever told you two how much you deserve each other, partner-wise?"

"Well," Andy started.

Sharon interrupted him, "That was a rhetorical question."

Provenza laughed, "Yeah, sorry, Captain, Flynn doesn't do rhetorical; that's above his paycheck."

Andy fake-laughed at Provenza, "Thanks buddy."

Provenza raised his glass and mouthed cheers before he took a long slurp.

Andy briefly looked to the ceiling at Provenza's antics and then he took a sip from his cranberry juice. Andy was surprised when suddenly Sharon's hand slipped into his, hidden underneath the table, her slender fingers between his feeling a bit chill. He gave her a probing look out of the corner of his eye but she wasn't looking at him, instead she was shaking her head at Provenza who was grumbling something offensive no doubt; but Andy did catch the small smile she was trying to hide.

He squeezed her hand back, his thumb going over the back of her hand. He took another sip of his cranberry juice, thinking that this was not that strange; they might not be that affectionate with their friendship but this felt rather nice.

"You know I can see you, right?" Provenza grumbled and Sharon immediately retracted her hand, a little blush on her cheeks now.

Andy grinned; she was always adorable when she was flustered.

"See what?" Andy grumbled back at Provenza, twirling the last of his cranberry juice around in his tumbler with nonchalance.

"Being all handsy – please spare me it; I'm starting to feel sick."

"Maybe it's the whiskey," Sharon retorted, her voice dry.

"Nah, I can handle my liquor," Provenza fired back, "but seeing emotion on your face is an entirely different deal."

"I'm thrilled to know my efforts at assimilating human behavior have finally paid out. You don't know how many hours I've spent in front of a mirror trying to mimic a human face," Sharon delivered with a straight face; one eyebrow lifted higher than the other.

Andy laughed, "You still need to work on that, Capt'n – your face is blank most of the time."

Provenza shook his head with a smirk, "Shh, Flynn, you wound the robot. She's probably put her facial muscles on autopilot, don't belittle the robot's efforts at fitting in. Tsk, tsk."

Sharon rolled her eyes slowly, "Gentlemen," her voice turned sly and superior, "you can grumble all you want but I still earn more than the two of you combined." Her eyes glinted and her smile seemed almost dark.

Andy moved his hand and patted her knee under the table, "So – you're buying the next round?"

She shook her head but it was with a smile, "If you insist."

"We do - intensely," Provenza proclaimed and they watched as she slid out of the booth with a little bow.

Sharon smiled wide, "Watch out boys – I'm going to use my satanic heritage to flirt with the bartender." She left with a sway, the black trench coat now open and billowing behind her; Andy stared after her, seeing her heels for the first time – he shook his head even as he grinned.

He turned his head and regarded his partner, "What is wrong with her! I think those heels are even higher than what she usually wears."

They both looked up at the bar where Sharon now had managed to lean against it, a god-awful flirtatious smile at the young bartender. Andy groaned at the sight.

Provenza grinned, "Everything is wrong with her – and only you would know the height of her heels, you idiot."

Andy ignored him; instead he focused on Sharon's heels again and especially her legs in the heels.

After a couple of unbearable minutes Sharon came back to their table, a tray balanced in her right hand; she deposited it on the table; "Free of charge." She winked at them.

Provenza raise an eyebrow in disbelief, "You've got to be kidding!"

She merely smiled, "I've got to run – you enjoy your night."

Andy quickly leapt to his feet, mumbling that he would be back to Provenza – he followed Sharon outside, her arm in his the moment they were outside and no one could see them. The street lights were just being turned on, darkness settling in.

Sharon stopped up next to her car, her head tilted back fractionally so she could look at him. They were a strange color in the evening light. Andy smiled back at her, finding her looking unusually soft in this light.

He put his thumb on her cheek, a tentative little caress before he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her smile immediately turned strange and she hurriedly took a step back, looking flustered. "I'll give you a call, um, later." she forced another smile, this one shy and awkward.

Andy sighed; she was always difficult to deal with when she was emotional.

"Sure," he replied and before she could run away he swiftly enveloped her in another hug; his nose buried in the top of her head, the scent of her hair heavy. It had been a close call tonight; he was just glad he was able to see her again. She hugged him back, her voice sounding small, "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I won't," he promised.

"Goodnight," she said, hurriedly stepping out of his embrace.

"Night," he replied watching her getting into her car and driving away.

...

**/SERVING THE KING/**

"You have been avoiding me," Sharon Raydor's voice surprised Andrew Flynn as she greeted him down by the morgue when he turned a corner on his way back to the third floor, the medical examiners report on the murder/suicide in his hands. Andy had just gone over the specifics with Dr. Crippen and now all that was left to tend to was paperwork that any half-brained rookie could write up in his sleep. Needless to say Andy was already in a bad mood and frankly, the sight of Sharon only needled him further over the edge.

Sharon's smile was soft and sly at the same time, one hand on her hip as she quirked her eyebrow at him; she obviously thought her comment was a little joke when in reality it was the truth.

"Yeah," Andy replied, angry that she had managed to track him down when he had explicitly told Taylor and the rest of the goon squad to give his whereabouts to no one. Well, that would teach him – yet again – to trust the slimy greaseball and those idiots. Andy gritted his teeth, tension in his body.

Her smile instantly disappeared, "You _have_ been avoiding me?"

Andy crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he glared at her. "Yes."

Now Sharon crossed her arms as well, a confused expression on her face that would look comical under different circumstances, "I don't understand," she said and even her innocent voice annoyed him to no end; her god-awful attire annoyed him, her heels and the color of her hair. Her whole existence was just one big fat annoyance.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Oh please – you know very well why I've been avoiding you."

"I haven't a clue," she said a little snip of aggravation now in her tone, her chin tilted up in a fashion he found to be a haughty look on her.

Andy shrugged and then walked past her, "Well, I'm busy and I don't have time for you right now."

He heard her follow him, her heels making a frustrated sound against the floor. An exasperated breath left her mouth, "Don't be childish, just tell me what's wrong – I don't need you going all passive-aggressive on me – not today."

Andy ignored her, going straight for the elevator at the end of the hallway. He pressed the button and then glared at her when she came to stand next to him, her eyes on him, arms crossed, obviously demanding an answer from him.

"You are unbelievable," he said, voice hard and rough – he wished she would just leave him alone and yet he yearned to yell at her.

"And you are an ass," she replied, her lips now tight. She averted her eyes from him, instead focused on the elevator – in profile she looked pissed off, he thought with some glee. Andy wondered how much it would take to get her to completely lose control and yell at him. It was strange because he had an almost fervent wish to make her cry; it felt both wrong and right this feeling and he was sure it had a lot more to do with his crappy mood than it had to do with her existence.

"At least I don't stab my friends in the back," he threw the accusation at her when she continued to stand without saying anything.

Andy took delight in the appearance of indignation in the midst of her eyes; he enjoyed the way anger replaced control in her expression and that she now seemed on the verge of lashing out; her lips trembling with pique, eyes flashing with irritation and her body ramrod straight in a vertical line – he glared back with equal resentment.

"For your sake I think it would be wise to use the term 'friends' lightly because I'm really not feeling it in this moment," there was ice in her voice – it did not cool him down in the slightest; it only spurred him on. She paused briefly, her lips pursed, "What have I done to you that's so damnable?"

"You're the reason I've been in hell for four months, Sharon," Andy roared, "Four months of taking orders from Taylor who wants nothing more than to gloat and rub my face in it every goddamn second. The slime ball is so far gone in feeling smug he has lost the ability to even solve simple B&E's, getting fucking bread crumbs on my desk every time he saunters past. You have no idea how close I am to putting my fist through a wall," he paused for a second to take a breath and then continued, the volume only going up, "Four months of listening to Ross talk nonsense and that idiot McHale barely able to talk without injuring himself – fucking smartass – how that idiot even graduated from the academy is beyond my comprehension.

"Yes," he scowled at her, his voice almost cracking at the intensity, "I've been avoiding you for months because I thought it would better to not speak to you at all."

Andy watched her, the stunned expression and the slightly open mouth, and he continued to rant at her, anger warm under his skin, "I'm so angry at you I can't even look at you without feeling ready to strangle you. Shit." He blew out a breath of air, feeling almost exhausted.

Sharon turned her head and then she completely ignored him, hands by her side rigidly and when the elevator dinged she walked into it before the doors had properly opened. She stood in the back, her eyes dead-set on the display.

Andy sighed but followed her, standing opposite her, "The silent treatment – that's great."

Her lips twitched into a firm line.

"You know it's funny but I thought you were supposed to protect us; not rat us out and force retirement on whomever you see fit to punish. I thought you were on my side."

"Just stop talking," she said, her voice low but frightfully clear.

"What the fuck is the deal with splitting up my team and sending everyone off to god knows where and then bringing in Taylor to be in charge! Shit, that's the worst decision you've ever made. Damn, Sharon – I thought you barely tolerated the guy."

"I said," she bit out, her voice sounding threatening, "stop talking to me."

Andy furrowed his brows, "Well, I'll stop talking when you stop pestering me."

She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips for a brief moment before her expression turned into marble, "That sounds like a plan. I'll stop _pestering_ you and you refrain from talking to me, at all. Can you manage that simple little thing, lieutenant?" her eyebrow lifted in condescension.

"I've been perfectly fine the last four months now, haven't I!"

"Good," she bit out.

The elevator dinged again and Andy walked out on his floor without a backwards glance. It was only as the elevator doors closed again he changed his mind; he cursed and then without thinking about it he swiftly changed directions, flinging open the door into the emergency staircase, taking the stairs two at a time – all the way up to the fifth floor. If he was quick he would be able to catch Sharon before she disappeared into the haunted corridors of Internal Affairs.

By the end of his run Andy was out of breath, his heart racing with both exertion and anger; he caught the back of her figure just before she closed the door into her office. He followed her, pushing her door open without a knock, the door slamming into the wall with a loud crack. His eyes narrowed as he took in her expression; a mix of surprise and outright fury.

"You are not even going to defend yourself?" he snarled at her, "No excuses this time? – I find that hard to believe. You feeling guilty?"

"I'm not going to sink to your level and defend myself against your delusional tantrum," she replied, her voice neutral and her complexion carefully controlled now; she seemed patient – a feeling he could not relate to at all.

"So four months go by and you couldn't give a crap," he accused her – Andy had been doing his best to avoid her but he still felt chafed she had not sought him out with more effort.

"Lieutenant, I regret to inform you that I had nothing to do with any decisions concerning your former squad and its disintegration. I know it's hard for you to understand that I do not have sinister intentions. I merely signed off on the I.A investigation into the shooting in your squadroom – and frankly I have nothing to do with the consequences of that incident; it's the Chief of Police and the FBI you should direct your little tirade at," her voice strengthened, "I am not the one who's deciding everyone's fate and if I was in charge I would do exactly the same as Kershaw, the Chief of Police and the FBI have recommended and have done in this situation."

Andy gaped at her, "You're kidding – you would retire Provenza and throw Sanchez to the wolves? You would fucking reward Taylor?"

"Yes," she said, and then "I'm considering retiring you – if you continue to harass me."

Andy shook his head, indignation and anger definitely out of control now, "Yes – I should expect that from you – you're one cold-hearted bitch."

Her smile was derisive, "Thank you, lieutenant Flynn – that'll be all."

Andy answered with a sarcastic salute, slamming her office door after him.

Bitch.

…

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback; much appreciated. =)


	3. 3

**/SAVING FACE/**

Sharon Raydor simply stared as she stood framed in her doorway, her expression hard to read and yet the way she pulled her night robe tighter around herself indicated some sort of unease or annoyance. Andrew Flynn hesitated on her porch, shifting the weight from one foot to the other and already he regretted coming here. Yet it was the only option that appealed to him – the only option that did not include drinking till he lay in a pool of his own vomit.

"It's late," Sharon stated with an almost despaired sigh, not really looking at him but concentrated on the space just next to his shoulder, the door moving an inch back as if she was preparing to slam it in his face.

"I know," Andy apologized, his voice sounding strangely coarse to his own ears. He paused, and then choked out the words, "Ray Hodge is dead."

"Oh," she sighed. There was dead silence for a moment, her eyes on him briefly. "I'm sorry to hear that – I really am – but what do you want from me, lieutenant?" Her voice was flat and she moved slightly backwards.

"Everyone's at O'Malley's," Andy explained, "getting shitfaced and I can't go home."

Not even a glimpse of emotion on her face. Andy sighed – well, he had been taking his sweet time apologizing to her from all those awful things he had yelled at her months back. He had been dragging his feet because he knew he had fucked up – royally. That and he had no clue how to apologize to her; not in any way that would result with her forgiving him – so he had avoided her.

"My sponsor is out of town and I've already been to two meetings; I can't stomach another," Andy said with gritted teeth, hating exposing himself like this, "and I feel like crap and ready to – well, I'm just feeling a bit out of it."

Another second of silence and it felt excruciating to him.

Her expression did not change much but she did stand aside, her door opening further to accommodate him, "Come on in," she said, her tone polite in a way he would never had been able to manage if the roles had been reversed. It was instant relief and Andy felt immensely grateful; he had not been looking forward to sitting alone in his apartment with only himself and depressing thoughts.

Andy closed the door after him, quickly deposing of his shoes and following Sharon who was already halfway down the corridor of her hallway – she went through the archway to her left and Andy followed her into the living room; she had paused the TV screen in the middle of a movie, the lights dimmed in the room.

Sharon was barefoot; he noticed when his eyes lingered on her bare calves, the night robe over a large t-shirt and her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"I'll make some tea," she said to him, that motionless voice slowly beginning to thaw even if she had yet to look at him directly. She flittered out of the living room without a backwards glance, going into the kitchen before he could answer.

Andy sighed, and having no idea what to do with himself, he sat down on the sofa – the end where there wasn't a crumbled orange throw; he imagined Sharon had been half-reclining on the sofa, wrapped in the throw and watching a movie on the TV before he rang her doorbell and interrupted her night.

"What flavor do you want?" she yelled from the kitchen.

Andy smiled briefly – he had missed her sorely. "Just whatever you're having," he yelled back, "I'm not picky."

He listened to her in the kitchen, the sound somewhat calming to him. He got rid of his suit jacket, flinging it over the back of the sofa – he pulled his tie off and undid the top buttons in his shirt, rolled his sleeves up next and then leaned back in the sofa, trying to think about nothing in particular. In particular he tried not to think about getting shitfaced.

Sharon came back into the living room after a couple of minutes, a tea kettle in one hand and two mugs in the other. She placed both on the sofa table, still not looking at him openly. She sat down on the sofa, the opposite end from Andy and she immediately pulled the orange throw around herself.

She sneaked a hand out of the wrap and pressed a button on the remote, the TV screen moving again and sounds filling her house.

Andy let the kettle sit for a couple of minutes and then he poured tea into both mugs, noticing that she was looking at him now, her eyes soft in the dimmed light and yet he had an impression that it was a calculating appraisal. Andy thought she was waiting for him to go first; to explain – to apologize.

"You know I'm a mean asshole, right?" he said to her, putting the kettle down on the sofa table again.

She nodded.

"You know I'm shit with apologizing?"

She gave another nod, this time taking a sip of her tea and avoiding his glance.

"I'm sorry I treated you like crap," he said to the TV – he had no idea what kind of movie it was and he really had no wish to know; it was simply somewhere to rest his eyes.

"Drink your tea," she simply replied and when he turned to look, her eyes were on the screen, hands wrapped around her own tea mug.

Andy reached out and took his tea; he sipped and then watched the movie with her.

Halfway through Andy nestled closer to her, relaxing back into the soft cushions, putting his feet up on her sofa table even if he knew it would annoy her to no end. He could practically feel the way she directed a frown into the side of his face.

Andy caught movement out of the corner of his eye, turned his head and smiled when he saw her place a pillow against her legs, patting the plush cushion with a tilted head and a direct look. Andy took the invitation and lay down, his body too long for the sofa and yet it didn't matter, his head in her lap and feet out over the arm of the sofa; he was comfortable.

A minute went by and then Sharon started threading a hand through his hair, lingering on his temple, the motion repeated in what he assumed she used to lull her kids to sleep with when they were small.

"When's the funeral?" she asked, her voice soft and low.

"Don't know – sometime next week I'd imagine," Andy answered, "He died this afternoon – heart attack."

She hummed, fingers soothing against his scalp.

"I know you never liked him much," Andy said – it was an understatement; Sharon had despised Ray back when he had worked for the LAPD and Andy knew Ray had never liked Sharon either.

"It doesn't matter," she replied diplomatically, "I know how you felt about him. He was a good partner to you."

Andy sighed, "Yeah. It's just strange, you know – we talked last week."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed.

There was another moment of silence. The guy on the screen was running from something – or maybe he was running towards something; Andy had no clue – he was not really interested.

"Where's the kid?" he asked after a while, wondering why the house was so unusually quiet.

"Out partying," Sharon replied, her voice amused of all things, "Ricky will most likely sneak in early tomorrow morning even though I've told him a thousand times he's old enough to stay out all night without all this fuss. He still thinks he'll get in trouble," she ended it with a soft chuckle.

Andy grinned, "Poor kid – you've put the fear in him at some point, huh."

He could feel her shake her head, "No, he's remarkably well-behaved – I had to almost beg him to go out tonight or at the very least do something that did not involve sitting around with his dull mother on a Saturday watching dull movies."

She sighed but it sounded merry. Andy smiled, "I like the kid – responsible; though really – who wouldn't wanna spend time with you."

Sharon patted his head, "I'll text him later and tell him not to freak out when he finds you asleep on the sofa."

"Yeah, that would be nice. Being woken up by someone pressing a baseball bat to your face and telling you to not move is not really my favorite way of waking up."

Andy looked up and caught the smile in her eyes now.

They both went silent for a short while again and Andy could feel his eyelids becoming heavy, every once in a while he caught himself almost falling asleep.

"I feel old," Andy mumbled when he found himself yawning yet again.

"You are not old," Sharon said, "You're not thirty anymore, honey, but you're not old." There was a reassurance in her words that felt heartfelt even if she said them with a sardonic tone.

"I feel a bit sick – I think I'm developing a fever," he told her, her fingers in his hair making him even drowsier – and he was certain he coming down with the flu or something; he felt wonky.

"You're not sick," she said, a little tone of laughter in her voice now.

"How can you be so sure?"

Her fingers landed on his forehead, her palm somewhat cold against his skin, "You are not warm."

Andy sniffed and then rustled on the sofa, rearranging himself and burying his head further into the pillow and her lap. He lay a hand under his cheek and then pulled his legs up so he could crawl into a ball. He imagined she rolled her eyes.

"I still feel old," Andy grumbled.

"You are not Ray Hodge," Sharon replied – and of course she saw through him and knew what was bothering him.

"I used to be just like him – worse even. It's a goddamn wonder I'm still alive."

"Yes," she agreed – it was the truth and they both knew it.

Andy hummed into the pillow.

"You're nothing like Ray," Sharon reassured him, and then "Did you talk to your sponsor – was it Dave? – at all?"

"Yeah – had a long conversation with him on the phone before I came over. He's in DC though – told me to go to a safe place."

"Okay," there was a warm tint in her voice and her fingers had stopped at his temple.

They were both silent for a long moment, Sharon caught up with the movie while Andy tried not to go to sleep, Sharon's fingers lulling him slowly into serenity with the soft way they caressed the top of his head, through his hair and back to his temple.

"Do you forgive me?" Andy asked when the credits rolled over the screen and silence became too much.

"I always do, don't I?" she replied, her voice dry.

"Yeah," Andy relented even if he would rather have heard her say it outright.

Andy felt her squirm, her hand giving him a little pat on his shoulder.

"I'm going to bed," she told him, "Is there anything you need?"

Andy sat up, his knees bumping into hers as they sat an inch apart. He tried to read her expression and yet again it was inscrutable. He shook his head, "No, I know where everything is."

She smiled, not too widely and it was still somewhat distanced from what he was used to. "You promise to come wake me if there's anything?"

He smiled, "Yeah."

Before she could stand up though, he leaned in, his hand under her chin; it was just a short kiss – her lips motionless against his. It was like a peck on the cheek, he figured – only on her lips. Maybe he should have just kissed her cheek instead.

Sharon looked down, a strand of hair falling in front of her face.

"Goodnight, Sharon," Andy told her, his thumb trailing across her cheek before he let go.

"Goodnight," she mumbled before she got up – in a little hurry that she tried to hide, the sweet way she pulled the throw around herself, eyes on him for a very short second before she traipsed out of the room, going up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Andy sighed – and then went out to the hallway, getting a blanket from the closet. It was not the first time he had slept on her sofa. It was also not the first time he wished she would invite him upstairs.

Still he was content with simply sleeping on her sofa, the scent of her home soothing and it was easier to ignore the temptation to drink away his life when he knew she was just upstairs and there to talk to if he felt like it.

…

**/RUBY/**

"Are you making house calls now?" Sharon asked in an amused voice as Andrew Flynn followed her into her kitchen, dawn just breaking outside and a bag of pastries safely under his arm. Andy shook his head, eyes exclusively on her outfit – of course only Sharon Raydor was fully dressed at the crack of dawn and ready to strike fear in the hearts of men before the sun had fully risen.

"Yeah - I'm delivering morning glory and bread from now and onwards, courtesy of my charitable character," he delivered back, smiling wider because, hot damn, her skirt was sleek today. Even if it was long and modest it was sleek and Andy liked her in sleek clothing.

Sharon looked back over her shoulder, an arched eyebrow at him and a look that clearly said, 'I know where you are looking, Mister' - "I could easily get used to that - you being charitable."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, eyes still purposefully on her ass and he was sure he missed the way she rolled her eyes at him.

The kitchen was lightly lit, the counter pristine and it was neat except for a lonely bowl with residues of yogurt next to the sink and the cutting board with a yet to be sliced melon. Sharon made a funny gesture with one hand that Andy took to mean that she was inviting him to sit down, so he took a seat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter.

Andy placed the bag of croissants he had brought her on the counter and with his head in his hands he watched her cut the melon, his lips turned into a pout.

Sharon looked up and caught his look, "What now?"

"Nothing," he sighed, dramatically turning his pout even more sullen.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Sharon groused and then with a sigh and eyes skyward she left the cutting board and went to her coffee machine, the smell of fresh coffee already a heavy scent in her kitchen; she took out two mugs from her cabinet and poured a generous amount into both. She set one mug in front of Andy with a little narrowed look, "Here you go," she said, "though watch out – it's hot."

Andy smiled, "You're hot."

"Yes, and like the coffee, you are going to get a second-degree burn if you touch me this very instant," Sharon retorted, her comeback perfectly delivered.

Andy grinned and then blew on his coffee in slow motion, directing a saucy look at her while he blew over the rim of the mug.

Sharon shook her head at him, her lips twitching as she went back to slicing the melon, fingers practiced on the knife and Andy watched her movements, lulled into an almost trance. The mug was warm between his hands and for a brief second – brief and quickly swept away – he wondered how it would be to simply close his eyes and fall asleep, next to her in a warm bed.

"You look tired," Sharon commented without glossing it over, her eyes soft when they landed on him, "In that overeager fashion where I feel tempted to knock you over with something blunt."

Andy stared back at her dumbfounded for a second, still spacing out; Sharon reached out and patted his cheek with slightly melon-wet fingers, "You awake, honey?"

Andy simply nodded, "You're getting me all sticky," he said, shaking his head with another sullen look.

Sharon took a dish towel and dabbed his cheek, "There – you happy now?"

Andy nodded again; he was exhausted and frankly he felt a bit empty-brained now, having worked nonstop through the whole Ruby-case. He had stayed overnight to finish paperwork and a few loose ends and now that everything was finally over he had trouble seeing himself being able to fall asleep peacefully, even if he was ready to drop dead on the spot.

Sharon hummed, her thumb gently poking his nose and her eyes on him enquiringly.

"I just got off," Andy said, watching Sharon taking the croissants out of the bag and cutting them into smaller pieces before she placed them on a plate between them on the counter, her eyes alternating between him and the cutting board. Andy took one croissant and popped it into his mouth, chewing and talking deliberately with food in his mouth, "Thought you deserved a good morning from your favorite lieutenant and a merry-be-on-your-way-to-work-croissant."

"Aren't you a dear," she replied, smiling around a piece of melon.

Sharon munched on her melon and Andy took another croissant-piece.

"So, the case's closed for good now?" she asked him as she put the cut melon pieces into a bowl and placed it next to the croissant plate.

"Yeah, creep's on his way to county." Andy replied, not feeling up so explaining he still felt like shit; he felt it was rather self-explanatory after dealing with murders of this nature. The whole case been a rollercoaster of emotions; the frantic feeling of still trying to keep hope searching for the girl, the stark reality setting in that she was dead – the horrible knowledge of how she had died. Then watching the creep explaining himself to the chief, the creep crying; the other little girls that had been murdered. It had been a nightmare, beginning to end.

Andy avoided her gaze; instead he concentrated on the kitchen counter and the black surface of his coffee in the mug. When he looked up again, Sharon gave him a gentle, sad smile, sitting down on her own bar stool at the corner of the kitchen counter – she pushed the bowl with fruit in his direction and took a piece of croissant herself. "Eat some fruit, hon."

Andy bit into one melon piece.

Sharon hummed around the croissant, "This is delicious."

Andy smiled, "Yeah – isn't it," and he really didn't mean the food but rather sitting here with her peacefully.

"How are you doing?" Sharon asked him, "Shouldn't you be on your way home – to acquire some sleep before you are called in again? Not that I'm complaining about your impromptu breakfast delivery."

"I'm not ready for sleep yet."

She nodded in understanding, her eyes intensely on him.

They both took a long slurp of the coffee.

"It's your favorite blend," she told him around another soft smile.

Andy smiled back appreciatively, then feeling mischievous he smirked, "You are my favorite blend."

Sharon rolled her eyes but it was only for show, her lips curving upwards, "Next you're going to be bringing me flowers."

"You want flowers?" Andy asked, feigning seriousness.

"Of course," she said dryly, "who wouldn't want flowers?"

"The devil?" Andy deadpanned, "They scorch so easily when you live in a lake of fire."

She raised her eyebrow, "Bring me fire-proof flowers then."

Andy pretended to think about it, putting on a contemplative expression, "Hmm," he paused, "Wouldn't you rather want dead, wilted flowers? Wouldn't that be more to your liking? – suit the rest of the décor down in the fiery fires?"

"Eat," she said and pointed once again at the fruit and the croissants, "stuff something in your mouth – I think I prefer you silent and occupied with food."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," he answered cheekily, eating melon. "Whatever you say," he said chewing rigorously.

Sharon sipped her coffee, watching him.

"Why are you up so early?" Andy asked her.

"Chief Pope called around 3 AM."

Andy frowned and Sharon continued her voice still soft, "Damage control to your case."

Andy only became more confused, "Damage control – what kind of damage control? The creep was assaulted in lock-up – surely you are not going to be investigating _that_?"

She tilted her head, disapproval and something else in her expression, "There's no need to cover up what Sergeant Gabriel did, Andy – I'm well-aware of everything that has transpired on your case. Chief Pope filled me in, talking nonstop for an hour."

"What do you mean? – Gabriel didn't do any-," Andy stopped and then suddenly everything made sense; he gritted his teeth.

Sharon gave him a strange look, "You didn't know?"

Andy shook his head, "No – honest to god," he told her and then, "That explains why Taylor pulled his usual stunt though, huh. I did wonder – it seemed rather strange, though I ain't complaining."

Sharon narrowed her eyes, "Usual stunt?" her voice lowered and then she said, a dangerous tone to her voice, "What kind of stunt does Commander Taylor usually pull?"

"Nothing," Andy backpedaled, cursing himself, "Just forget it, okay."

She nodded, albeit grudgingly, sipping coffee and her eyes still suspiciously on him in a narrowed fashion.

"So, you are going to suspend Gabriel?"

She tilted her head, "You know I cannot answer your question. First and foremost I've given the case to Detective Elliot. Technically it's not for me to say."

Andy shrugged, "Well, that's usually what happens – that or someone getting fired, dependent on the circumstance."

"No one's getting fired."

"So, suspension then."

"Andy," she said and her voice was full of patience now, soft, "It's an investigation in progress and my detectives have yet to reach any conclusions. You'll know the second the decision is made. For now, be quiet."

Andy nodded and drank the rest of the coffee in his mug.

"I have to be at headquarters in half an hour," Sharon told him, her eyes on her wrist watch for a second, "Are you going home?"

"Nah, there's a meeting at 8 I want to attend."

She nodded and then surprised him when she got off the bar stool and enveloped him in a hug, a hand at the back of his head. Andy turned his cheek, ear to her chest, his arms going around her middle. He could hear her heart beat in between his inhalations, the sound peaceful.

She kissed the top of his head, "Give me a call around noon?"

"Yeah."

"Good lieutenant," she teased, her hand giving him a tender pat on his head.

Andy made a half-hearted attempt at a dog bark.

Sharon laughed.

…

** /DUMB LUCK/**

Andrew Flynn came across Sharon Raydor in the lounge area of the cafeteria on the second floor after having spent a good fifteen minutes trying to locate her elusive whereabouts. She was reading a newspaper and enjoying what looked like a cappuccino, sitting in the sofa closest to the wide window, her face serene and her posture relaxed.

Andy sat down next to her with a big grin, trying his hardest to not clap his hands together in glee.

"Did someone call for the bomb squad?" he paused and then with his arms spread out wide, "I'm here to safely deliver you from the deadly grasp of boring news; any second now I'm sure all that paper is about to explode."

Sharon looked at him; a confused and rather dumbfounded expression that quickly turned into amused smugness, eyes sparkling.

Andy couldn't help but smile back even if he was going for a serious expression.

"Bomb squad?" Sharon repeated and even her voice was tingling with warmth as she took him in from top to toe, an arched eyebrow at the half hazmat suit.

"Someone said there was a situation in the cafeteria," Andy joked, keeping his voice grave and low, "and I can see now, they meant you are in dire need of a bomb check," he waggled his eyebrows, "I am qualified to check you out, Ma'am."

Sharon pursed her lips, "Is this some sort of roleplaying fantasy you are acting out – like the time you came to my office in your undercover Gartner gear?"

"Ma'am," Andy said with a straight face, ignoring her sarcastic comment, "I don't role-play. I am the defense between you and the dangerous world we live in; my sources tell me you are dangerously close to a paper cut," Andy took the newspaper out of her hands, careful of keeping it a safe distance from himself and then he threw it onto the sofa table with a puff of air as if it had been extremely heavy.

Sharon eyed him as she crossed her arms "You are a riot today, I can tell."

"I'm always a riot," Andy grinned back.

"You done playing war games and now you have nothing to do but annoy me? Have all the testosterone gone to your head, is that it? Or are you just dehydrated and in a state of delirium?"

Andy nodded with a cheerful smile, "Oh yeah – what a blast it is, _war games_. I don't think I've sweated as much since fucking Sergeant Baskin put me through the hoops at the academy," he pulled at the hazmat suit he still had on, tied around his waist so he could at least breathe – the grey LAPD t-shirt he had on still feeling damp from being in the closed suit for a whole day.

"What are you wearing underneath it?" Sharon said with a suspicious smile, looking at his lower body covered in the heavy suit, "Boxers or briefs?" She gave him a sly look from beneath lashes, her smile lazy.

"You don't wanna know," Andy complained, "It's like fucking Sahara down under – I feel like I've been in a sweat tent for days on end."

Sharon smiled crookedly as she eyed him, her eyes alight with amusement, "You should go to the gym more often, lieutenant."

"You inviting me to come along to a work-out with you?" he asked, deliberately leaning towards her, eyes on her white silk blouse; it was thin and he could detect the outline of her chest easily, the swell of her breasts beneath the flimsy material. Shit, she did look rather fancy today he thought, the pearly blouse and a black skirt that was a teeny bit shorter than normal – her favorite pair of black Manolo's.

Sharon shook her head and Andy noticed she had earrings on as well. "I'm telling you that you should work up a sweat more often, lieutenant," her mouth twitched and she gingerly patted his shoulder.

"Again with the innuendo," Andy smirked, "Are you inviting me to a nightly round of bed games, Captain? Because in that case, I'm not declining."

"Maybe – when you are in better shape," she joked, crossing her legs as she regarded him.

"Ouch," Andy pouted, "You wound me. I'm in a great shape," he paused and with a lowered voice, "I can show you shape, alright."

Sharon shook her head, "Why are you here?"

"Don't you just find me roguishly handsome now that I'm in the LAPD counter-terrorism bureau? It's positively bad boy-ish, wouldn't you say?"

"You are always a bad boy," Sharon said with a dry voice.

Andy pouted.

Sharon relented, "Yes, honey, you are handsome indeed. I'm especially admiring the sweat on your brow." She smiled with a pointed look, "oh god, and your damp grey t-shirt is giving me a lot of unsavory thoughts."

"Hey, you try waddling around in this ridiculous sweat tent of a suit for an entire day and you would be all sweaty too, honey."

Sharon smiled, her eyes bright, "I'm sorry, you look adorable," she paused. "Is that enough? Am I allowed to read the newspaper now or do you need me to stroke your ego a bit more?"

Andy leaned close and then puffed out with a breath, "You can stroke me a bit more, yes please."

Sharon rolled her eyes and then tried to reach around him to grab the newspaper; Andy barred her access, taking her wrists instead and giving her a pouty look, "C'mon – you've gotta entertain me."

Sharon sighed, "Can't you entertain yourself?"

Andy shook his head in the negative, pouting.

Sharon smiled, "You do look so adorable when you pout, lieutenant – I think you should do this more often, maybe people will feel less inclined to file reports against you."

Andy shook his head, his lips pouted further in disbelief, "Adorable? I'm not adorable."

Sharon giggled, "You are adorable."

Andy sighed and let go of her wrists, "Teddy bears are adorable, Sharon. Butterflies and goddamn little cute babies are adorable. Homicide police officers in the counter-terrorism bureau are most certainly not adorable; we are fierce and raw."

"Exactly, you are such a sweet teddy bear," she patted his hazmat-suited thigh now.

"Goddamn, woman, that is not a compliment," Andy roared, feigning annoyance.

Sharon compressed her lips and he was sure she was fighting down laughter now, "Lieutenant, if I was in any way attracted to men in the counter-terrorism bureau, you would be the first one I would call. Happy?"

Andy shook his head, "Not by a long shot."

"You are very handsome," she said around another suppressed laugh, "That do it for you?"

Andy continued to shake his head.

Sharon leaned closer and then clasped her hand around his forearm, "You've got a great biceps," she cooed, her fingers massaging his muscles.

Andy smiled back, "Oh, you are making me blush now, careful – I might just invite you out to dinner."

"I'm married."

"You're separated," he told her, leaning closer to her as well.

Her eyes narrowed, "Whatever."

"I just want you to be frank; are you seeing other bomb squad's?" he whispered in feigned outrage, his lips inches from her ear now. He leaned back and caught her answering smile.

"Yes – they come and go."

Andy looked to the ceiling, "You are destroying me."

Sharon shook her head, "To be honest, I've never thought I would be this amused by budget cuts."

"Oh you just wait till you see the tape from our 'drill' in the murder room; fucking hilarious."

Sharon quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, "What drill?"

Andy smiled, "A bimbo and her hitman and a little idiot OCD valet got into it, we all had to jump in – one big disaster. It counted as our counter-terrorism-practice-catastrophe however, so I'm not complaining. I'm having security send me a tape of the whole thing; we can watch it together, if you like."

Sharon laughed, "Is this one of your underhanded ways of asking me to have dinner with you?

"Yes," he replied – and he meant it seriously.

"Your place – or mine?"

"Yours," he answered.

"So," she drew the word out, "in reality you are inviting yourself to dinner."

"You know me, always the gentleman."

She shook her head and then she leaned across him and took her newspaper from the table; "Why don't you go fetch yourself a cappuccino – on my account," she waved him away to the cafeteria.

Andy got up with a long sigh, feigning a lot of suffering, "You just want to see me walk in this stupid attire."

She tilted her head back, eyes on him with humor, "You got it, Mister."

Andy waddled up to the cafeteria bar and paid for a double cappuccino; he looked back over his shoulder and found Sharon waving at him with a smirk.

He gave her a little bow in return, laughing when she had to hide her face behind the paper.

With his coffee in hand he crossed back, set the cup on the table and then threw himself back in the sofa, blowing at Sharon's newspaper till she became sufficiently annoyed and regarded him instead of the paper.

"My god," she exclaimed, a little narrowed look in his direction.

"I'm bored," Andy sighed.

She rolled her eyes and took a long sip from her cappuccino, eyes on him.

"It's briefs," Andy said to her, feigning innocence as he sipped coffee, looking at her over the rim of the cup.

She tilted her head, "I know."

"How?" Andy asked, confused.

"I could see the outline when you walked."

"You were checking out my ass," he laughed goofily.

She raised one eyebrow, "I thought it was my turn seeing you never do anything but stare at mine."

"Touché," Andy admitted, clinking his coffee cup gently against hers.

…

**/MANHUNT/**

"Does this flower arrangement say 'I'm sorry you got shocked chief but I'm glad you shot the bastard'?'" Andrew Flynn wondered out aloud, staring at the little neat bouquet of red tulips; he had no clue about flowers and which kind and what color you were supposed to send to whom. It was the reason he had brought Sharon Raydor along to the flower store – up until now however she had been absolutely no help whatsoever.

Sharon sighed next to him, staring at the flowers he pointed at, "No," she said in a strangely sardonic voice, "They obviously say you have put too much thought into this and have been dying to declare your undying love for a whole year now."

Andy fixed her with a long and annoyed look, "Hey, there's no need to be sarcastic, Captain. I just want to pick flowers that don't say 'sorry, someone died' or 'I love you'! Is that too much to ask for, huh?"

"Then stay clear of white and red," Sharon replied wryly, staring at every flower in the boutique with obvious disinterest and every now and then she would give a single flower a scrutinized glare as if that particular flower had somehow offended her.

Sharon's lips pursed for a brief second and then she sighed, a long drawn out sigh that reminded Andy of something slightly despondent.

Andy rolled his eyes; she had been sighing an awful lot today.

"Come along, you miserable creature," Andy said with a warm smile, taking Sharon's hand in his and drawing her further along the rows of flower arrangements and plants; her smile was miniscule and somewhat wan.

"What about a cactus?" Andy joked, intertwining his fingers with hers, waiting for her to quirk an eyebrow at his audacity or at the very least give him an annoyed glance at their clasped hands. Sharon simply followed him, her hand warm in his – he likened her to a little rag doll who followed the motion of his direction; a peculiar characteristic for her. She bumped into him when he stopped and looked at a two meter tall cactus; she sighed and stared at the prickly plant with another frown.

"It depends," Sharon answered, "It would be an excellent present to someone who is entirely incapable of keeping anything alive for a day."

Andy grinned, "That sounds like something for the chief, huh – perfect; let's grab the cactus then. Do you think they deliver?"

Sharon arched an eyebrow at him while she shook her head, "It doesn't say 'get well' though now does it?"

Andy squeezed her hand and smiled, "I'm joking." When she continued to give him the same weird look, he sighed, "Goddamn, you are beyond humor today, huh."

Andy dragged her further along; still amazed she was holding onto his hand, her small fingers delightful between his. Next they stopped at a row of orchids, "What about one of these? A purple huh, I kinda like that. What do you think?"

"You've never given me an orchid," Sharon replied with a little pout that looked more real than feigned.

"You like orchids?"

"They are my favorites," she answered and then sighed again, "among others."

"Okay, that's it," Andy grumbled having no more patience to deal with her sighing, "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Sharon said, looking up at him – she had yet to realize they were holding hands, Andy decided; otherwise she wouldn't be this blasé about it.

"You've been sighing left and right all day and that weird expression on your face, it's a dead giveaway. I don't have any more patience left to deal with you being all frowny face; so out with it, what's wrong?"

"Ricky's moving out," she said her eyes trained on the orchids and then she rested her head against his shoulder with yet another sigh. "He bought me a goodbye orchid because he's going to miss me; or at least that's what the note said. My little baby-boy; he's growing up too fast."

Andy shook his head, a little amused at her expense; though it did explain a lot.

"Sharon," he started and then he lost track of what he had been about to say, her head tilted but still resting against his arm, her eyes fully on him as she pouted. There was something about her green eyes up close that got to him.

"Yes?" she sniffed.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Never mind – just help me pick out a goddamn bouquet, will ya! And I will take you out afterwards – wherever and whatever you goddamn please and we can talk about your little boy flying away from the nest."

She pointed back over her shoulder, "There was a nice bouquet by the entrance."

"Well, why didn't you say that ages ago?"

"I don't know," she simply said, "I was busy."

Andy shook his head, "Busy being cuckoo crazy, yeah."

Sharon gave him a gentle push with her shoulder, her eyes full of humor now and a little smile on her lips that Andy found mesmerizing, "Sorry, honey."

They smiled at each other.

They went back to the entrance of the store and sure enough there was a beautiful little arrangement of different colored flowers that Sharon pointed at with a soft smile; Andy took the bouquet and they went to the counter to pay. Sharon found a little greeting card and pushed it into his hands – "You write something nice – something that says," she bit down on her bottom lip, pretending to think, "how about something that says 'sorry you got shocked but glad you shot the bastard'?"

Andy fake-laughed, "You are a treat today."

She smiled and made a funny bow with her head.

The shop owner eyed them both and Andy simply rolled his eyes and indicated Sharon with a little tilt of his head. The shop owner smiled back with an acknowledging nod.

Andy borrowed a pen and then scribbled down a little note to the chief. Sharon looked over his shoulder, a furrowed frown, "Remember Chief, when recovering from shock it's important to keep your legs elevated," Sharon read out aloud what he had written; she gave him a shake of her head, "Classy."

"Are you sending a bouquet of flowers to my chief?" Andy asked her, his voice raspy with sarcasm.

She shook her head.

"Then be quiet," he groused.

Sharon sighed in return and Andy rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time; he had a feeling he would be doing a lot of eye-rolling today with Sharon obviously in this wonky mood.

They left the flower shop a minute after, Sharon sliding her arm under his and walking with him. Her eyes were focused on the little bouquet of orange-tinted Spanish marguerites Andy had bought last minute when he had had enough of her looking longingly at them while he gave the shop owner the chief's address; he had grumpily taken the goddamn orange flowers and thrown them in her arms, roughly proclaimed "Happy now?" at her and given the owner all the money for the whole circus. Then he left the shop in a hurry before Sharon started looking at anything else.

"So, what do these mean?" Sharon asked him, eyes still on the flowers and her expression a mix between softness and superiority.

"They are a means to cheer you up; they say 'pretty please, stop sighing – it's getting on my nerves'," Andy answered promptly, glad when she giggled.

Sharon looked up, her eyes sparkling, "And what now? Are you going to propose something preposterous?"

Andy smiled, tightening his hold on her arm, "Yeah."

"Oh do tell," she smiled wider.

"We are going to go find you some new shoes, obviously," he told her, his voice low, "with an outrageously high heel."

She smiled bright, a new glint of sparkle in her eyes, "You know me too well."

"That I do," he agreed as he psyched himself up for spending too much time gazing at high heels with her; not that he minded when she put them on and posed for him with flirty smiles or when he could watch her hips sway as she tried them for a little strut – it was just the long arduous process from window gazing till she actually bought a pair that was hell.

"So, are you treating me to high heels as well as flowers?" her teeth were white when she smiled; a dangerous smile, he thought.

Andy looked back at her, horrified, "Are you kidding? I don't earn enough to compensate for your expensive high living. I'm here to gaze at your ass and tell you whether they look right on your feet or not."

She pouted, "You're missing out."

"On what? Debt?"

She laughed, "Gratitude – appreciation, lieutenant."

"Yeah, I can't buy groceries with gratitude and I'm sorry to tell you, honey, but credit cards don't run on 'appreciation' either."

She stood on tip toe, her lips close to his ear, "Have you never bought something for a girlfriend and gotten a much appreciated thank you in return?" Her voice was low and positively seductive.

Andy groaned, sneaking his arm around her waist; "Okay, I'll buy you a pair of shoes."

Sharon smiled, "You are incorrigible."

"I expect a blowjob in return, at least."

"At least?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So, you are saying no to a home cooked meal and a night on my couch watching horrible movies?"

Andy grinned, his thumb in a little caress over her hipbone, "I'll say yes to anything."

Sharon buried her head in her flowers for a moment, a little blush on her cheeks that Andy rather liked.

Andy smiled, "So, aside from you going all weepy, is the kid excited about finally getting his own place?"

She sighed, "Yes. And don't get me wrong, I'm excited too. It's just – I haven't lived by myself since I was twenty or something, Andy. It's going to feel strange."

"Yeah - but think about all the freedom and advantages living by yourself will include, Sharon. You can prance around naked now; have glorious sex on every surface of - "

She interrupted him, hitting his shoulder with her hand and shaking her head at him, "Shut up."

Andy grinned and ignored her narrowed eyes, "What the heck, I'll gladly help you christen the whole place – I've gotta feeling you've never done it anywhere but your bed."

She huffed, "You know nothing, Mister"

"Uh, fascinating, do tell?"

She smiled, "I don't kiss and tell."

Andy pouted his lips, half frown, half smirk, "What about giving me a little kiss? Then you can tell me everything, no worry?"

She pressed her face into his arm again, mumbling something against his suit.

Andy laughed.

"What about you?" she asked when she had composed herself.

Andy gave her a confused look, "What about me?" he paused and then gave her a saucy look, "You wanna know where I've had sex at my place?"

"God no," she hurriedly said, shaking her head with an awkward smile.

"What then?" he smiled goofily.

"Well, what are you going to shop for?" She gave him a little eye roll, her look clearly indicating she found him a bit of an idiot.

"Lingerie," he whispered in her ear, enjoying the way her laughter sounded, "For you."

"Only if you are buying," she whispered back, one corner of her mouth more curved than the other.

"Only if you show me," he husked back.

She shook her head, "I don't think so."

"Well, how on earth am I supposed to agree on any lingerie if I don't know how it looks on you?"

"Well, we are obviously not buying lingerie then."

Andy huffed, "Hmm – you are ruining my day here, Captain."

"How about some lingerie for you? I don't mind watching you prance around, flashing new underwear?"

Andy raised an eyebrow and gave her a long look, "Admit it; you really wanna see me naked."

She smiled, "I have seen your butt already, remember."

He rolled his eyes, "That doesn't count – besides you've only seen me from behind."

"Your best side."

"Right back at ya."

They laughed and crossed the street, Sharon already eyeing her first shoe-shop. Andy sighed but kept his arm around her, happy she seemed oblivious to this new affectionate thing between them as well as the earlier handholding; or maybe, he amended when he caught the small looks she gave him when she thought he wasn't aware of it, maybe she just liked it as much as he did.

…

**/BLINDSIDED/**

Andrew Flynn was focused on watching the game, Sharon Raydor's wide TV screen perfect in size for just this occasion, his feet lazily plopped up on her sofa table and the rest of his body slung out on her sofa, three pillows for his head and torso. Even watching his favorite team playing and winning – if the thirty minutes that had already transpired had anything to say about the outcome – couldn't really outshine the strange feeling he had been carrying around all day. Needless to say he was in a mood of some kind.

"Are you even going to help me with dinner?" Sharon asked rather snippily, "Or was it all a ruse to simply leech off on me?"

"The latter," Andy replied in a distracted voice, eyes on the screen and the players. He did not bother turning his upper body in her direction to regard her; he knew she was standing in the doorway into the kitchen judging by her voice, her arms most assuredly crossed in front of her chest and her chin up in the haughty fashion that meant she cared little for his game or his attitude.

Andy heard the puff of air that left her lips with force and he imagined she now glared at him, hands on her hips, "You are grumpy and self-righteous beyond compare. What is wrong with you today?"

Andy rolled his eyes and shrugged even if she couldn't see it from her position. "Everything is wrong with me today," Andy replied and hoped she would understand the hint and just leave him alone to watch the game.

Of course his answer only elicited a snort from Sharon and Andy could feel her presence behind him now, her hands on the spine of the sofa.

"So," she started, her voice achingly sweet, "You want to watch sports on my TV, eat my food without lifting a finger, ignore me and get my hallway all dirty because you neglected to take your shoes off before you threaded in and lay down on my sofa – and now you are playing some kind of passive-aggressive game I obviously did not sign up for?"

"That sounds about right," Andy groused back, "Go to start and collect your money."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Sharon muttered with vehemence, a low growl coming from her throat that sounded like a deeper sigh of exasperation. "Well, suit yourself," she snarked and then stomped away. He heard the kitchen door shut with more force than she would normally.

Andy couldn't help a small grin – sometimes she was too easy to annoy and sometimes it was nice to simply annoy her.

Half an hour later the wonderful flavor of dinner began to waft in the air, spicy and warm; Andy smiled in spite of himself, his eyes on commercials now.

Sharon opened the kitchen door again. "Hey lazy bones," her voice was chipper in a suspicious fashion that made Andy groan. She continued, "You are not – under any circumstances – eating in front of the TV."

Andy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah – easy there, Miss Menace."

He took his sweet time getting off the sofa, yawning and turning the TV off; when he turned around she was still standing in the doorway, a quirked eyebrow, "I don't know a single soul who can make trivial matters seem so arduous and anguished like you can," Sharon smiled, one corner of her mouth more curved, "Why, you would think I had forced you to come here and eat my food."

"I'm a delight, aren't I," Andy retorted, hurrying up and surprising her when he enveloped her into an impromptu hug, "Heeey," he cooed into her ear his arms tight around her middle, "You know what I wouldn't mind taking my time doing? Slow, slow – painstakingly slow sex."

She slapped his shoulder and then told him in a deadpan voice, "No sex before dinner."

Andy laughed, "Got it, Capt'n," and then in another surprise he quickly bent down a bit and managed to get his arms around Sharon's thighs and he lifted her in the air, her surprised shriek sounding sweet to his ears.

"Put me down," she giggled in between trying to make her voice serious.

Andy let her hang over his shoulder, her hip against his cheek and he trotted into the kitchen, "Shit, you weigh nothing. What the fuck are you eating?"

"Put me down, now!"

He trotted to the table that was already set and when she wriggled he patted her backside with a patronizing tap, "Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

"Lieutenant," she half growled and he felt her hands dig into his sides, her nails long and sharp, "Put me down this instant or so help me, I'll - "

Andy hummed, "Whatcha gonna do?" he patted her again, smiling.

"I'm deducting your pay."

"On what ground? C'mon, you and I both know you never do anything unless it's within the golden rules of your precious law. You have no legal power that would make it possible to deduct my pay for simply lifting you up when we are both off duty."

"Try me," she retorted, her nails now surely hurting around the flesh in her grasp, digging into his skin purposefully.

"Ouch, Sharon, stop hurting me," Andy growled, "I'm just going to drop you if you continue."

"Then put me down," she sounded breathless, "NOW."

"I'm gonna put you down the moment you let go of my sides," Andy replied back, his hand around the inside of her knee and going up, "Or I could just tickle you, huh – you are awfully ticklish on the back of your thighs, hmm," he let his fingers walk upwards slowly.

"No, no – don't you dare," she breathed, wriggling and swinging her legs away from his touch; he swayed a bit on the spot, winched when her nails bore even deeper into his skin and he was just short of losing his balance.

"ANDY," she yelled.

Andy quickly put her down and watched her flushed almost angry face and the mussed up hair; she pushed him away from her, a palm to his chest, "You are not getting any dessert."

Andy shrugged, "You never feel up for dessert anyway."

She huffed and then turned away from him and went to the stove, "Sit down before I change my mind and throw you out," she said over her shoulder, her voice neutral.

Andy sat down with a sigh and then watched as Sharon brought a pan to the table, the two large steaks on it still sizzling. Andy frowned at the meat in front of him, the smell delicious and he knew without a doubt Sharon had special ordered the meat just for him; it didn't change that fact that all he could think about were rats.

"I can't eat steak," Andy told her, sipping water and hoping his nausea would soon fade.

Sharon gave him a strange look, a hand at her hip, "What in the world do you mean?"

"I think I'm a vegetarian," Andy fiddled with the utensils and then he quickly took the pot with steamed long-stemmed beans, ladling on a mountain of the vegetables on his plate.

Sharon was still staring at him, her lips now pursed in aggravation; she sat down opposite him, her frown only deepening, "What do you mean you think you are a vegetarian? You've always eaten meat – why, only last year I could hardly get you to eat broccoli."

Andy shrugged, "Yeah, yeah, people change, you know."

"Okay," she relented though her voice seemed kind of grouchy, "How long have you been a vegetarian then?"

Andy looked up and tried to calm her down with a charming smile – it did nothing of the sort, if anything she only looked a bit pissed now. Sharon took the pot right out of his hand and emptied the rest of the beans on her plate. She stuck a fork into the biggest steak on the pan and laid it next to her beans.

Andy sighed; it did look good – and he knew from experience it would taste absolutely wonderful as well.

"Since today," Andy told her, grabbing the salad bowl.

Sharon raised an eyebrow, "Since today," she shook her head in disbelief, "So, what happened today that has made meat so repulsive to you that you are considering never eating it again?"

Andy put his head in one hand and stared at her with a sullen expression, "No need to sound so aggravated – it's not as if I did it on purpose."

Sharon rolled her eyes, "Okay, lieutenant - what happened?"

"You know that place Hawthorne Lodge – that old place with wild game."

Sharon gave a slow nod, "Yes, I think you might have mentioned the place one or two times." Her voice was sarcastic.

"They got closed down about a year ago – health violation issues to do with fucking rats."

"Oh honey," Sharon gave him a soft smile, "There are no rats in my kitchen - ," she paused and then with a crooked smirk, "well, except me of course."

"Ha, ha," Andy shook his head, "Seriously, Sharon – I've felt wonky all day everytime I've thought about meat."

"Okay, honey," she reached across and patted his hand, her eyes crinkled but her voice soft, "You know what, I think I may have some falafels in the freezer. Do you want me to heat them up for you?"

Andy nodded.

Sharon stood up and then went ahead to heat the falafels. She looked back over her shoulder with a playful look, "You do know that you'll have to give up cheeseburgers, don't you?"

Andy groaned, "Don't remind me of it."

She laughed.

"And bacon too, Mister."

Andy put his head in his hands.

…

=)


	4. 4

**/CULTURE SHOCK/**

Andrew Flynn stood outside the fifth floor bathroom, his voice sly when he bellowed, "I'm here," after knocking hard on the door three times, his requisite toothpick neatly at one corner of his mouth. Two seconds went by and then Sharon Raydor opened the door a half-inch and peeked outside, her expression sheepish, "Shhh, don't talk so loud."

Andy arched an eyebrow, tilted his head as he regarded Sharon and the slight blush that had crept across her cheeks. With a deliberate low voice he repeated, "I'm here," his mouth split apart in a wide grin, "so let's get this show on the road."

Sharon rolled her eyes, "Oh god, I shouldn't have called you." She shook her head at herself and then put her hand across her eyes and sighed. "Anyone but you."

Andy simply looked at her, the half torso he was able to distinguish from the behind the door – the bare arm and shoulder, the black bra strap and the lace that bordered the slope of one breast; god he would give his right arm to have a peak inside.

"Are you going to let me come in or what?" his voice had turned low, husky, the toothpick travelling to the other corner of his mouth in a slow, deliberate move.

She bit down on one side of her mouth, "No."

Andy smiled, "It's nothing I haven't seen before, you know."

Sharon gave him a long condescending look, hiding more of her body behind the nearly closed door, "You haven't seen me half-naked, so no, I'm not letting you in – now please, give me your jacket."

Andy pouted and mouthed 'pretty please' however with a quick judge of Sharon's expression he swiftly took off his suit jacket and gave it to her through the half-ajar bathroom door, able to just glimpse a bit more of bare skin when she reached out and took the garment. She slammed the door in his face the moment she had the jacket.

A second after she called, "You can come in now, lieutenant."

Andy looked to the ceiling before he slinked inside the bathroom, eyeing Sharon standing in his black jacket, her arms around herself. The jacket was too big on her and the way she crossed her arms only made her cleavage that more visible, the edge of her bra drawing in his eyes. He wondered whether she matched even if the black lace bra looked enticing on its own merit.

Andy smiled lazily at her, not disguising where he was looking at all, "I am incredible turned on right now."

"Oh, shush you," she waved him away with a hand and then she took what looked like a purple shirt and washed it through water, the tap running.

"So, what happened?" Andy asked curious about the phone call he had received two seconds ago where she had expressly ordered him to hurry to the fifth floor bathroom with his jacket, her tone brooking no disagreement with its edged tilt.

"A uniform ran into me and spilled his coffee all over me," Sharon blew out of the corner of her mouth, her voice sounding compressed. It was a tone Andy took to mean she was immensely pissed off about the coffee spill – a tone he was glad was not directed at him. He took a closer step to her and gave the cloth in her hands a scrutinized look. "It's silk?" he wagered.

"Yes," she said, lips forming a firm line, "It's going to stain – goddamnit."

"Here let me," Andy said and took over before she managed to tear the shirt apart in her despondent anger, her fingers clutched too tightly into the material.

She stepped away and took a deep inhalation, "Is it shallow of me if I begin to cry?"

Andy furrowed his brow, "You're going to cry over a coffee stain that's most likely easy to remove?"

She nodded and drew his jacket even closer around herself, "It's my favorite shirt – and it goes so well with anything, really." She sniffed.

Andy rolled his eyes, "I don't understand women."

Sharon tilted her head in a patronizing angle, "Of course you don't."

"Don't worry," Andy smiled at her, "It will be as good as new." He put the plug in the sink and then filled it with hot water, leaving the garment in there to soak. He turned around and regarded her, "You have no idea how many times I've spilled coffee on myself and white shirts; hot water in a jiffy does it."

Her lips pursed into a pout; she looked adorable standing in her black pants and his over-sized jacket, green eyes on him.

"C'mon here," Andy said to her, his voice gravelly and his finger beckoning. She moved and went into his arms willingly, her nose cold against his neck for a second.

Andy kissed the top of her head.

After a second of silence, he spoke into the top of her hair, the small strands tingling his lips, "You are never going to believe what I've just found out – heck, it's still absolutely absurd."

"What?" she said in a sour voice.

Before Andy could respond, however, the door into the bathroom creaked open and Taylor's secretary slid inside. Andy was almost sure her name was Dottie but he wouldn't wager on it – irregardless of name the woman stopped short at the sight of Sharon and Andy.

Sharon quickly jumped out of his embrace; a sheepish, red flush across her cheeks while Andy gave the woman a wide smile – technically it was the ladies bathroom so he understood her surprise. He waved her toward a stall with another cheeky smile, Sharon standing still beside him with an expression like a statue as they both watched the woman go into a stall.

"I've told you a thousand times, Captain Raydor," Andy said in a loudly measured voice, "We need to find another place to have office sex."

Sharon looked at him mortified.

"This is simply too crowded," Andy continued, enjoying the way Sharon turned red from the roots of her hair to the neckline of his jacket. Andy lowered his voice just enough to pretend to be whispering but he was sure the secretary would be able to hear his next words clearly, "I'm so sorry about coming all over your shirt – but really what do you expect when you go down on your knees, babe."

Sharon slapped the front of his chest rather hard, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed into sheer annoyance, "This is the last time I ever call you for help," she hissed between compressed lips, "you complete idiot."

She crossed her arms and Andy enjoyed the sight of her bra once again.

He leaned close, "I love your underwear," he told her in a whisper, his eyes on her chest.

Her expression turned to a lovely mix between mortification and anger, her eyes flashing with malice as she hurriedly pulled his jacket further around herself with stiff movements, covering herself neatly.

Andy smiled back at her and her glare deepened.

A toilet flushed and a decidedly red-faced secretary came out from a stall, avoiding their eyes and headed directly for the exit. The woman left the bathroom, the door closing behind her with a loud bang.

"She didn't even wash her hands," Andy shook his head in mock-disgust.

Sharon approached him with narrowed eyes and then slapped him once again, her palm however soft against his shoulder, "You are despicable," she slung at him and the moved to the sink, her eyes on her soaking shirt.

"Thank you so much," she said to the mirror, her eyes on him in the reflection with a glare, "I'll look forward to Pope calling me in five minutes time and demanding to know why I'm having sex with you in our office bathrooms." She rolled her eyes.

Andy grinned, "You just plead the fifth, honey."

She looked down, shaking her head but Andy caught the smile she was trying to hide.

"Speaking of sex; guess who's been secretly fucking for almost a year now."

Sharon smiled then, "Judging from your angry tone I'd imagine it's someone from your squad."

Andy leaned against the wall and gave her a somber look, "Why do you say that?"

"Lieutenant," Sharon showed her teeth in a derisive smile, "it's a no-brainer; you always blow a fuse over being kept in the dark about such things. You abhor not knowing everything."

Andy squinted his eyes, growling, "Well, you obviously know everything."

"Obviously, yes," she replied in a slick voice, "I'd imagine you are upset about finding out about Gabriel and Daniels?"

"Damn right, I'm upset," Andy ground out and then paused, suddenly confused, "How the fuck do you know?"

Sharon smiled, "I saw them the other day – walking hand-in-hand, quite oblivious to anything but each other."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Sharon rolled her shirt up into a rope, drenching it for water.

"I've gotta a surprise for you," Andy told her, first patting the pockets in his pants and then finding the little packet with confectionary.

Sharon gave him a contemptuous look, "You shouldn't say that and then grope yourself."

Andy merely smiled and drew forth the packet, "It's only fudge, Captain, no need to split a seam now." She immediately approached him, a smile lifting one corner of her mouth higher than the other.

"Mm, you brought me fudge."

"Mm-hmm, I did. It's homemade – from Atlanta."

"I guess I could find a little time to eat fudge," Sharon said, her head tilted back and her smile was warm.

"I say we invade your break room, drink coffee, eat fudge and gossip about all these idiots who spill coffee on their superiors."

Sharon laughed with a nod, "You should have seen his face, Andy," she paused to grin, "the poor boy looked ready to puke his guts out when he realized who I was."

Andy laughed with her, taking her wet shirt and letting her go out of the bathroom door first, guiding her with a hand on the small of her back. Sharon did not seem to mind, her eyes on him with a sparkle.

...

**/NEXT OF KIN 1/**

"May I ask why you are at your desk, Lieutenant Flynn?" came Sharon Raydor's voice, a hint of repressed annoyance in among the sarcastic connotation to the words. It was a voice Andrew Flynn recognized as velvety danger – a voice Sharon usually reserved for addressing wayward officers she had no personal connections to. Andy grimaced, holding his right hand tenderly against his chest and inwardly cursing that she chose now of all times to visit his murder room.

Andy slowly spun around on his chair and regarded the Captain as she approached him, her hands on her hips and a look in the depths of her eyes that did indeed match the sardonic tunes of her voice. Andy grimaced again. As far as Andy was concerned Sharon in full blown-out scorn-mode was a volatile combination when he put his bad mood into the equation.

"It's my desk," Andy deadpanned, "where else would I fucking be?"

"The hospital," Sharon retorted and Andy immediately glared at the stupid chair Provenza had resided on a mere second ago; of course the old idiot had ratted him out and then chickened out and left the scene.

"I'm fine," Andy bit out between his teeth, his jaw clenched tight, "Not that it's any of your business, Captain."

Sharon rolled her eyes at his sour voice. "Wrong," she countered with a dark smile, "It is specifically my business. On duty incidents involving officers and the general public are my area of expertise. If your hand is broken or otherwise mangled in such a way that you need time off, lieutenant, it is my business indeed seeing it happened while you were on duty, tackling a potential suspect." Sharon raised an eyebrow as she spoke, coming closer to him. Her arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed in on him with a look that Andy deemed patient even if she looked ready to grab him by his ear.

"This is not news to you, lieutenant. I know for a fact that you are more than familiar with that section of the LAPD guidelines. You need to have your hand checked out, promptly."

"I'm sure it's just a bump," Andy lied – it hurt like hell everytime he so much as moved a finger but he wasn't about to clue her in on the truth seeing she would only force him to the hospital then, "It's just bruised, Sharon."

Sharon sighed, her arms coming uncrossed and landing on her hips again, "Honey," she said in a low voice, "I know you don't particularly enjoy hospitals but it's not up for negotiation."

Andy glowered, "Are you telling me I have no choice in the matter?"

"That's exactly what I am telling you, yes," she punctuated it with a condescending smile, "It's an order, lieutenant – so you better move your gear."

Andy grumbled, "You are not my direct superior."

Sharon's smile widened in a way a predator would show its teeth before pouncing on unsuspecting prey and Andy grimaced in return.

"Do you want me to call the Chief of Police? Do you really want to listen to the Chief yell into to your phone for a half hour about responsibility and conduct? Because I will call him if that's what it will take," there was a note in her tone that made it clear she would indeed call the Chief and Andy knew – from experience – that Sharon on the warpath meant no one stood standing after she had barreled through.

Andy sighed, "Well, I can't drive in this condition and I'm not paying an outrageous amount of money for a lousy cab."

"I'm driving you," Sharon declared with another smile.

Andy sighed again. Despite knowing it was a lost cause he said, "Are you sure it's necessary? Heck, I've spent the last half hour with an icepack on my hand, Sharon. What more can a doctor do, huh?"

There was a glint of something malicious in her eyes and then she approached him, her hand out towards him,

"Give me your hand." Her teeth looked positively sharp in this lightning Andy thought.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on her with suspicion, "Why?"

"C'mon," she reached out, her fingers soft and gentle on his injured hand. Andy let it go from his chest, his brow furrowed in confusion. The motion made him grimace but otherwise he kept still.

Out of the blue and with no warning whatsoever, Sharon deliberately pushed down her thumb on his wrist while her fingers pressed on the inside of his wrist with force as well. Andy yelped as pain shot up through his arm, swiftly wringing his hand out of her grip and back to its safety against his chest.

"Ouch – what the fuck, Sharon," he griped, giving her a wounded look.

"Pain upon touch, honey, clearly the possibility that it's more than a simple bump is high. And don't think for a second I'm fooled by your delightful attitude. You've been cradling your hand as if it's been crushed by an anvil." She shook her head with a soft indulging smile, "You are coming with me to the hospital."

Andy grumbled and groused under his breath, taking his time getting up from his chair, hanging his head at a level that suggested he was depressed. He pursed his lips and cuddled his hand protectively against his chest, giving Sharon a look as if he was half afraid she would touch it again to prove her point. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Just stay clear of me and don't you touch me again – you sadistic woman."

Sharon walked with him out of the murder room, her hand briefly on his shoulder, her thumb in a small caress,

"Don't worry – I'll let the doctor torture you instead."

Andy rolled his eyes, "I don't like you very much in this moment."

Sharon laughed, the tone soft, "Honey, you are just feeling a bit put out because a teenager managed to both tumble you down and outrun you."

Andy glared at her, watching her push the bottom for the elevator car, "You are such a bitch sometimes."

Her smile turned deadly, eyes narrowed, "I'm going to pretend you said absolutely nothing just now because I know you are in a lot of pain."

"Whatever," Andy grumbled back.

Once they were in her car, moving out of the parking garage Andy spoke again, "I think it's broken."

Sharon sighed, "I know – otherwise you wouldn't be this difficult to deal with."

"Yeah, well I hate hospitals."

"I know."

"Betcha we are going to be forced to wait for an eternity, sitting on some goddamn stupid chair that's going to end up ruining my back. And I just know that some little weasel just out of medical school will tell me to put fucking ice on it and send me home none the wiser."

Sharon gave him a brief look, "I'll make sure they take an x-ray – at the very least."

Andy rolled his eyes, "Shit – that's another thing, Sharon. You're gonna end up in a screaming match with a doctor or two, I just know it."

Sharon sighed, "You've never complained about it before."

Andy shrugged and then quickly stilled when the motion hurt; he clamped his teeth down.

Sharon's hand landed on his knee, the other at the steering wheel, "Will you please just close your eyes and keep quiet; everything's going to be fine and before you know it you'll be on your way home again, doped up on analgesics."

"You mean I'll be on my way home to your place," Andy corrected her nonchalantly, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"Whatever you want," Sharon answered.

"I want brownies and pain killers," Andy said and he smiled when he caught her giving him a long suffering look that no matter how much she tried to contain it turned into a smile nevertheless.

"My sofa is always at your disposal," Sharon smiled at him briefly before her eyes were once again on the road.

"Though if you want brownies we'll have to go grocery shopping first."

"Oh," Andy pursed his lips into a sullen pout.

"I have ice cream – Gelato."

"Mmm, that will do."

"You are such a baby," she laughed.

"Yeah – well, my hand is frigging broken. I deserve cuddling at the very least."

"You can cuddle with yourself," she giggled.

"I'm pretty sure you don't want that, on your sofa."

"Oh, just shut up."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

…

**/NEXT OF KIN 2/**

"This is your favorite lieutenant calling," Andrew Flynn said, his phone cradled against his ear and his body slung out on the small motel bed, two pillows at his back. He yawned and ignored the glower Provenza directed at him from the other single bed in the small rather dull motel room they had managed to acquire for the night, budget and vacancy not allowing for two separate rooms unfortunately.

"Andy," came Sharon Raydor's voice over the line, breathless in between a little pant.

She continued to sound breathless and Andy couldn't help himself, darkness outside and the low light in the motel room not helping the slightest with his vivid imagination.

Andy grinned wide, his voice sly when he asked, "What are you wearing?"

"What?" Sharon sounded confused now and when she blew out an exhalation that sounded nothing but explicit, Andy couldn't help but land his hand on his lower abdomen, a little caress. Provenza was fortunately reading some atrocious novel and not focused on the whereabouts of Andy's hand for the moment.

"Are you masturbating?" Andy breathed into the phone, the enticing quiet pause from Sharon's end only interrupted with another breathless pant, "Naked and …?" he prodded.

Andy smiled at Sharon's silence. Out of the corner of his eyes Andy saw Provenza make a gagging motion, his face screwed into an annoyed frown as the old man shook his head at Andy. Andy resolutely ignored him.

Sharon sounded strangely amused when she finally answered, "Of course not. I'm at the gym."

"Shh, shhh," Andy corrected her, "Don't ruin it now. I had more fun imagining you naked atop your bed, your hand between your legs and your back arched back. Mmmm."

"You are sordid."

" – or do you use something else?" Andy continued, ignoring her comment, "A colored, vibrating toy, perhaps?"

Sharon gave an awkward laugh over the phone that Andy took to mean she did indeed own such a toy – he grinned to himself, his imagination spiked up rather spicily – until Provenza hurled a pillow at Andy's head that was.

"What?" Andy hissed at Provenza, keeping a hand on the phone so Sharon couldn't hear them.

"You are grossing me out," Provenza hissed back, waving his hand angrily at the door out into the hallway, "Go outside if you have to have despicable phone sex, you disgusting pervert."

Andy shrugged and held the phone to his ear again.

Andy hummed to her over the line.

"Are you bored, lieutenant?" Sharon asked him and Andy did not really mind imagining her in gym clothes either, slightly sweaty and panting, strands of hair matted against her skin.

"Yeah," Andy replied sincerely, "Bored out of my mind, to tell you the truth."

Provenza rolled his eyes.

"Well, how about coming over later? Ricky's home from San Diego and we're making Christmas cookies," Sharon said in a warm voice, "and I might even feel inclined to buy you cranberry juice and sparkling water."

Andy pouted, the idea of spending an evening baking cookies with Sharon and her boy was nothing but enticing; his eyes raked around the dull motel room. Stuck, he thought with a sour expression – stuck in fucking Arizona with Provenza, the chief and her crazy parents and that idiot Wesley.

"I can't," Andy sighed.

"Oh," she sounded disappointed.

"I'm currently in," he paused and then sighed, "Wilcox, Arizona."

"Arizona?" Sharon repeated.

"Nothing like an interstate RV trip with grumpy colleagues and their insane families to bring a little holiday cheer," Andy commented, catching Provenza glaring, "Getting a goddamn perp back to LA shouldn't be this difficult, I tell ya. It's fucking insane."

"Why are you on an interstate RV trip? You must be aware of those pesky things that fly in the air, bringing human beings swiftly from A to B." Sharon laughed, "It's so easy to fly, you know."

"Ha ha, you are on a roll, huh." Andy groused sarcastically, "We can't board a plane."

"Why on earth not?"

"Funny thing happened," Andy said with a half grimace, half grin.

"Funny things always happen when you are in proximity of lieutenant Provenza. Let me guess, he's in Wilcox, Arizona as well."

"Yeah, the grumpy old bastard gives his festive holiday regards," Andy said with a little nod and patronizing smile in Provenza's direction. He imagined Sharon would roll her eyes at his comment.

"I doubt that very much," Sharon replied with a wry little laugh, "He'll give me festive regards the moment he's in a position for Chief of Police."

"I thought you liked it when I was polite," Andy shook his head with a wry smile.

"Lying straight through your teeth is not being polite, lieutenant," Sharon replied in a voice he found adorable.

"Hmm, I'll have to change tactic then, is that it? You want me to be polite and earnest simultaneously?"

"Yes, please."

Andy hummed, "You demand too much of me, woman."

"I can see why being both polite and honest at the same time might create a bit of trouble for you," her reply was dry yet amused, "seeing it would mean you'd have to force your brain cells to communicate."

"Ouch," Andy shook his head, "don't belittle my brain cells. They do just fine."

Sharon laughed and after a brief pause, she hummed questioningly, "So?"

"So what?"

"Why can't neither you nor Provenza board a plane with your suspect?" there was a brief pause and then she drily commented, "Do I even want to know?"

"Oh yeah, it's frigging hilarious. We took the red-eye to Atlanta to pick up our idiot suspect and the son of a bitch managed to get us on the federal no flight list on our way back." Andy sighed, "Fucking idiot, raging about bombs as we stood in line for the check-in. Shit, for a moment I was sure the airport security was about to tackle Provenza and me too."

Sharon laughed, "You are joking – please tell me you are joking."

"No, honest truth here," Andy said, still shaking his head at the incident, "We are forced to return to LA in a RV with the chief and her parents."

"That sounds absolutely merry," Sharon laughed.

He sighed and then whispered, "It's a nightmare." Andy glared at Provenza and then continued, "It's dreadful, Sharon – I might just be ready for the insane asylum if we ever reach LA at all."

Provenza's eyes widened when Andy said Sharon, as if he was just now clued in on who Andy was calling. The old man narrowed his eyes and then he mouthed, "Are you out of your mind!"

"It's like spending fucking Christmas with the Grinch," Andy grumbled, deliberately giving Provenza an arched eyebrow, "not to mention the absolutely crazy southerners and one bitter son of a bitch complicating everything. Heck, I'm not sure who I'm gonna end up shooting first."

"My poor lieutenant," Sharon chuckled and Andy smiled, dwelling even further into the mattress, ignoring the way Provenza made a condescending eye roll in his direction.

"Raincheck on the cookies?" Andy asked, trying to hide another yawn.

"As long as you are not masturbating right now," she countered and Andy could imagine the way her nose would scrunch up at the notion and how one side of her mouth would curve even if she tried to contain it.

"Sorry, Capt'n, my hand's already in my pants," Andy lied, his vision gone when Provenza smacked another pillow at his head, the cushion landing on his face and staying there blocking out light.

"I'm thrilled to know you are deriving pleasure from your little trip of misery," Sharon said, dry voice, still panting and he had a vision of her in a position that would be rather thrilling indeed.

"Seriously, woman – what are you doing? It's going straight to my dick." Andy gave out a long out drawn sigh, "It sounds like a well-fit fitness instructor is pounding you!"

Provenza sputtered out aloud.

Sharon merely laughed, "If only – no, I'm running on the treadmill."

"I will gladly pound you," Andy whispered, the pillow still on his face – he didn't have to look at Provenza then and it suited him just fine.

Sharon sighed over the phone, "You sound excited – why do you sound excited?"

"Why do you think? Geez."

"Stop it," there was laughter in her tone.

"Don't worry – I'm being very coy here in my motel room, all by lonesome."

"What a relief."

"Not really – though I know what would be relieving."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop imagining whatever it is you are imagining. I'm simply running – there's nothing inappropriate about it at all."

"Say that to your voice and those little pants."

Andy imagined she rolled her eyes.

"You're not getting any," she paused briefly, her tone vibrating with contained laughter, "Christmas present this year."

Andy pouted, "That's okay. Christmas is not about gifts – it's about giving."

He could hear the smile in her answer, "Honey, I was joking."

"I know," Andy smiled.

"I've gotta go."

"Oh, why?"

"There's a well-fit fitness instructor who's been staring at my ass for the last half hour; I'm going to go pound him."

"Oh shit, Sharon," Andy growled, "There goes my imagination again."

She laughed and then with a sweet whispered bye the line went dead.

"I despise you," Provenza said in a growl when Andy came out from under the pillow.

"Merry Christmas to you too," Andy snarked back.

…

**/CONTROLLED BURN/**

Despite his inclination to let his anger rise – the reappearance of Bill Croelick always managed to make his blood boil – Andrew Flynn found himself worrying after a whole day of listening to the grapevine going up in a volume that suggested that Captain Raydor was on the warpath and in one of her characteristic sith-like moods. Gossip always floundered mercilessly around Parker Center and yet Andy knew once the intensity rose to the level of avoiding anything that had to do with I.A something was wrong. So Andy decided to brave the fiery fires of hell, thinking he could enquire about her mood as well as vent about the recent case and Croelick once again making his life sour.

The decision was only enforced when he met a rookie in uniform who looked decidedly green in the face and ready to cry when the elevator doors opened to the floor of I.A. That sealed the deal; Sharon was obviously in some kind of funky distress and was taking it out on everyone else – it happened every once in a while.

"This is a friendly check-in," Andy said as he for once politely knocked on her office door and entered at her quiet 'Come in'.

"You are frightening everyone from the night security guard to Pope; what's wrong?"

Sharon looked up, a dismissive frown flung in his direction before she immediately looked down at the report in her hands again, her computer open in front of her and what looked like four empty Styrofoam coffee cups on the heavy oak desk. Nonchalantly she waved him away with a hand, her tone formal, "I don't have time today, lieutenant."

"Bullshit," Andy crossed his arms, "You always have time."

"Not today," she stated, still occupied by the report in her hands. The only indication his presence irked her was a small tightening of her lips and the way she narrowed her eyes as she continued to read on.

"What's wrong?" Andy wondered out aloud, his voice soft. He tilted his head, scrutinizing her – she was impeccable as always, nothing that hinted at what was obviously troubling her.

"Why do you assume something must be wrong with me simply based on the fact that I'm too busy to listen to you grumble?" her tone was flat and sarcastic, her eyes briefly on him with disdain before she looked down again, a little eye roll at him that he saw even if she tried to hide it.

"Well, first of all you are being such a sweet delight it's almost unbearable," Andy grumbled, his voice now raw with sarcasm as well, "Secondly, the combination of aloof sarcasm and evasiveness is a sure give away, Captain, why, your panties must surely be in some sort of twist."

Now that earned him attention, her eyes on him in a deadly glower, "You don't need to concern yourself with my panties."

"Really – because I'm imagining silk and red, bordered with lace," he gave her his usual crooked smile and was frankly surprised when it didn't work and instead of her smiling back amused, her lips twitched into annoyance. He kept his smile on, "Commando is it?"

It gave him nothing but further annoyance, the way one corner of her mouth twitched in what he perceived to be displeasure rather than amusement.

"I have already suspended two high-ranking sergeants today, lieutenant Flynn – don't push your luck."

Andy smiled, "I'm a pusher."

Her teeth showed in a belligerent, somewhat tired smile, "Indeed. I had the fortune of receiving a call from the attorney of Bill Croelick earlier today saying you specifically and quite deliberately pushed his client into a wall, headfirst, and with more force than necessary."

"That's not what I remembered happened," Andy defended himself even if he knew that had Sharon been present earlier in his squadroom when Croelick had visited she would have hauled him off by his ear. It had simply been a little push; hell the creep had been perfectly fine, smug and all.

"No, as I explained to the attorney, I'm sure you were your usual polite self and requested Croelick's presence in an interview room without manhandling him or anyone else."

Andy sighed and closed her office door behind him, sitting down in the chair opposite her. He crossed his arms, regarding her with narrowed eyes and tension inside him once again boiling. "The creep is safe and sound, no bumps or bruises or anything that would suggest I was in any way violent. If I really wanted to inflict pain upon the bastard don't you think I would know not to do it while on duty and in plain view of everyone? Shit, I really felt like slugging the son of a bitch but I behaved nicely."

Her eyes narrowed, "Are you trying to tell me you would assault him off-duty?"

Andy ignored her – ignored his own inclination to vent further about Bill Croelick. Instead he focused on her bad mood, the need to know what was wrong having gone beyond mere curiosity. "Whatever – that's not why I'm here. Why are you going all passive-aggressive on me? That's the most stupid thing to ever do – rookie mistake. You know I'm obstinate, Sharon, so just tell me what's fucking wrong instead of going all bitchy on me."

She sighed, the report in her hands being dumped unto a pile of files with an exasperated snap, "What part of 'not today' did you not understand? How much clearer can I be? Do you want me to spell it out for you."

Andy glared at her now, "I'm your friend, remember? Not some obnoxious idiot from Traffic – shit, what in heaven. How hard is it to say, 'Sorry Andy, I'm in a bad mood.'?"

She sighed, "I'm fine. No need to concern yourself with me today. Just give me a bit of space."

"Space?"

"Just leave me alone for a couple of days – I'm sure you can manage two days without annoying me."

Andy rolled his eyes, standing up, "Geez, are you going through menopause or what?"

Her eyes flashed and her mouth formed a fine line, "Yes, of course Andy, that's the whole crux of things."

He pointed at her, "Just for the record, you are the jerk this time."

She smiled condescendingly, "There's a first time for everything, apparently."

Andy slammed her office door behind him, angry as he strode back to his own floor. Halfway down to his own murder room he changed his mind however and spun around, stalking back to I.A and Sharon.

This time he barged though her door not bothering knocking; being polite had not helped him one bit so it was time to be a rude idiot. Maybe he could get some answers out of her then.

"Andy," she exclaimed surprised, still seated behind her desk and looking through something on her computer.

"Space! Who the fuck needs space, Sharon? We haven't seen each other in weeks and you are being ridiculously mule headed. Just tell me what's wrong already and let's get this prissy whatever hissy fit you have going over and done with!"

Yes, that did it; she immediately flew into fight mode as well.

"You managed a whole minute without annoying me, I'm impressed," she snarled back at him, "There is nothing wrong with me – I'm not having a bad day," her voice rose, "And no, I'm not going through menopause, you chauvinistic pig."

"Really, are you absolutely certain! Because you sure are acting like it, irrational and all."

"Irrational?" she lowered her voice but it was still angry despite the low volume, "Just because I do not want to talk to you I'm irrational?"

Andy approached her, hands on the surface of her desk as he leaned towards her with a stare, "You are impatient and have been frightening half of the building to the point where everyone is avoiding you."

"So what is it?" Andy turned his voice down, trying to get his blood pressure down as well, "You missing Ricky? or is Jack back in town?"

Her face crumbled slightly, her complexion a shade paler. "What makes you say that?"

Andy knew which part she was referring to and he answered, "Because everytime that asshole comes sliding back into your life you turn into a right bitch, hysterical and practically standoffish."

Her lips twitched into a sneer, "And thank you for making my day even more miserable."

Andy shrugged, "That's what I'm here for, honey."

They stared at each other for a long time and some of the tension seemed to seep out of her, her eyes averting from his as a little audible sigh left her lips.

"It's just - " she started and stopped again, her face screwed up in consternation. "He's back and his presence is just - " she stopped again, this time she looked at him, an almost helpless expression.

"He's a jerk and he screws your life up," Andy finished for her.

She gave a half, hesitant nod.

"You could just have said that," Andy exclaimed, "Instead of going all she devil on me."

Her smile was distant, "It's none of your business."

Andy shook his head; that had been her answer in the last decade whenever he had mentioned Jack.

"That's not gonna fly this time – you are my business, Sharon."

She crossed her arms, "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"I have no wish to discuss Jack with you – at all."

Andy spread out his arms wide, palms open, "Yeah, I got that message ten years ago when you nearly bit my head off when I casually suggested a fucking divorce instead of that circus you call separation."

She looked down again, hands clasped together and resting on the desk. "Just leave me alone – please. It's just a couple of days and then you can come annoy me all you want."

"Why would I leave you alone when you are obviously in such a strange mood?"

"Because I ask you to," she looked up, another hesitant look.

"Fine," he bit out, "You know where I am if you need me."

Andy left, the door slamming behind him once again.

Everything was just easier when Jack stayed in Las Vegas – for everyone.

…

**/SPEED BUMP/**

Andrew Flynn breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the roof top door and found Sharon Raydor standing at the railing, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pensive expression as she looked out over the city.

"I've looked everywhere for you," Andy said as he approached her, "Thank heavens that little Elliot weasel is easy to intimidate or otherwise I would have ended up looking real smooth, trying to locate you by our security cameras."

"I came here to avoid people," Sharon responded with a pointed stare in his direction. Andy sighed, he had been a part of 'people' for a couple of weeks now and it was really starting to not only annoy him but worry him a little bit as well. Sharon looked out over the city again, her voice dry when she continued, "For the record, lieutenant, the next time I catch you trying to intimidate any of my detectives again I'm sending you off to a seminar or two."

Andy ignored her blatant dismissal and instead he lined up next to her, standing at the railing looking out over the city with her. He looked at her in profile, trying to discern what went on behind her glasses today.

"For the record," he replied, "you should answer your phone when I call instead of hiding out on the fucking roof. Would it kill you to even text back – a simple 'fuck off' would suffice you know."

Sharon chuckled, "You do not understand a simple 'fuck off' even in text form I'm afraid."

Andy rolled his eyes, "Oh great, it's insult your friend day today, huh." He shook his head in disbelief, "If I didn't know better I would wager someone pissed on your breakfast but knowing you I'm sure you start the day by pissing on other people's food."

"Oh, I do so enjoy you when you are all sour and sarcastic," Sharon smiled.

Andy smiled back, "Another thing for the record if you will."

Sharon hummed, her eyes on him curiously.

"I've given you ample time for your personal 'space' you so nicely forced upon yourself a fortnight ago." Andy groused good-naturedly, "So you can't keep avoiding me forever, Captain. Eventually you are gonna have to simply let go and join me for gossip at the cafeteria."

She hummed again, a softer key, "Honey, I didn't say you should avoid me for weeks. I merely expressed a need to be myself, with a little space to sort out my head."

"So, your head's all sorted out now? You ready to interact with human beings again?"

She shook her head, a small rueful smile on her lips that she tried to contain.

"You never share a lot about yourself, Sharon," Andy told her earnestly because he always got the news about her life after the fact.

"I don't need to share everything with you," she said and if her voice hadn't been soft it would have felt condescending. It didn't however; even her eyes were crinkled and soft in their color as she regarded him.

Andy smiled to himself and then he sneaked the coffee cup out of her hand and took a sip. Sharon gave him a strange look with an arched eyebrow, her lips curving upwards. "You feel entitled to my coffee?"

"I do. As a matter of fact I feel entitled to a lot of things when it concerns you. Friends share coffee at the least – especially since you do not feel inclined to share anything else with me."

She smiled a soft and small smile but it was there, "I will remember this the next time I happen upon you with coffee in your hands."

"Please do – I will gladly _share_," he smiled back at her in the same fashion, taking another sip before he gave the cup back to her.

Her look was pensive again, eyes on the horizon and tall buildings, "I don't tell you everything about my life, Andy, but you know the most important facts."

"Yeah – I have to disagree there," Andy mock-grumbled.

She shook her head and even in profile he could discern the wide smile on her face, "Oh, just shush it." the smile disappeared momentarily when she continued, "You probably won't understand it but I need for you not to be concerned about Jack – I simple need to pretend you don't even know who Jack is. I'll only become crazy if I mix too much of the past into the present."

"I get that," he told her and he did, "but, honey, I've known Jack as long as I have known you. I got all the horrid tales from every meeting I attended and he was there. There's not much I don't know. "

She sighed, "I know. I just don't want to discuss Jack with you. I do not wish to talk about that part of my life, frankly."

Andy shrugged, "Sometimes you have to talk about the things in your life that's shit, Sharon."

"He's not in my life, Andy – he's not an active part of my life," her voice sounded strained.

"I know, I know," he quickly said, his voice soft and his shoulder against hers, "Don't worry about it – let's just forget it, huh."

Sharon hummed in agreement.

They stared out into the air, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"I'm selling my house," she said out of the blue suddenly, her eyes briefly on the coffee cup in her hands.

Andy looked at her in surprise, his eyes drawn to her slender fingers around the cup and the way they tapped against the Styrofoam in some sort of little nervous tic.

"That's a good thing, right?" he ventured, almost positive it could only be a good thing indeed.

"It is," she confirmed, another smile on her lips that was wide.

"Well, I'm happy for you, "Andy bumped his shoulder against hers again, catching her looking at him and he gave a smile in return. Sharon continued to stare at him, her lips twitching.

"What?" he said, smiling.

"You can't send flowers with harassing cards to former criminals out on parole."

Andy furrowed his brow into annoyance but instead of getting angry he played confused, "What do you mean?"

Her smile was a strange creature, both soft and yet admonishing in the way it curled. "I know you, Andy, and more importantly I know the Mayhan case struck a nerve with you years back. It's not a reprimand – I'm not even filing it anywhere. I simply want you to reconsider sending threatening cards to criminals in the future."

Andy sighed, "The scumbag deserved it."

"You are a police officer, it's required of you to behave with a conduct becoming of your rank." The words sounded formal in that way only Sharon could manage to make anything sound so formal you thought you were back in the principal's office being lectured about disrupting class.

Andy was used to it however and he merely smiled at her, "I don't think they taught that class when I was at the academy."

Sharon laughed, "We were there at roughly the same time, Mister."

"I wish I remembered you from back then," Andy said, "I'm sure you were quite the gorgeous little tantrum ball back then."

She hit his shoulder softly, "Stop changing the subject."

Andy shrugged, "I'll make sure to cover my tracks better the next time I send flowers to a homicidal maniac."

Sharon sighed, "You should have chosen a career in law if you want to be the one to hold up the weighing scales of justice. You are not a courtroom, Andy. "

Andy gave her a soft glare, "You sound just like the chief."

She smiled in return, "Oh, I'll look forward to meeting her one day."

Andy grinned to himself; he was sure that would be one big disaster but he saw no need in telling Sharon that.

Sharon took a long sip of her coffee and when she was done she put the cup into his hands with an encouraging smile. Andy took the proffered coffee, sipping from the rim where there wasn't an imprint of lipstick, enjoying the still warm liquid.

"So," Andy started in between two coffee slurps, "Where are you gonna live? – you are not moving away from LA? You are not retiring or anything, are you?"

She smiled, "Don't worry honey; I'm just moving into something smaller. And what do you mean retiring? Are you calling me old?" she stopped briefly, her eyebrow raised at him, "May I point out that you are not only older than me but have a lot more grey hair as well.

"Yeah, that's because I don't color my hair – I'm not that vain."

She laughed.

Andy chuckled and bumped his shoulder into hers again, his own smile warm as well, "You let me know when you find a place and need to move. I'll help move boxes and furniture and all that other jazz."

This time her smile was radiant, "You are a wonderful friend at times."

Andy laughed, "As long as I stay quiet and don't threaten people you mean."

"Yes. When you are polite and nice, quiet and helpful that's when I really like you."

"So, you only like me every other full moon."

She nodded, trying to keep a serious face, her lips compressed into a half-smile.

Andy fake-sighed, "Well, I thought you liked me all worked up, yelling left and right."

"Yes, caveman lieutenant is my favorite version of you," she replied sardonically.

Andy grinned, "I know."

They smiled at each other for a moment and then looked out over the city again.

…

**/CHERRY BOMB/**

Andrew Flynn knocked impatiently on the bathroom door for the umpteenth time, a very strange feeling situated in his abdomen alongside impending annoyance. "Goddamn it Sharon, just open the door, will ya?" His voice was rough and just shy of shouting – tinged by a hint of panic. Shit, shit, shit. The whole world had spun out of control in the mere span of seconds.

"Give me a second, you idiot," came Sharon Raydor's annoyed voice, muffled by the door.

Andy looked to the ceiling, his body tense from something he hesitated to put name to.

Andy knocked on the door again, his knuckles hard against the wood. The sound reverberated loud in the relatively empty apartment. It was devoid of any furniture yet, pristine and smelling faintly of fresh paint. Andy had agreed to help Sharon, only happy to leave behind a frustrating week and the rotten depravity of human beings. After decades of working with crime and Andy still sometimes found himself surprised by their cases – the Yates boy and the whole fucking sheriff's department covering up for one of their own not an exception.

"Shit, it was only a kiss, Sharon," he yelled in frustration that she had barricaded herself in her bathroom.

He sighed when she did not respond, "C'mon – can't you at the least come out here and talk to me face-to-face like a fucking adult. I don't much fancy talking to your idiot bathroom door." He knocked on the door again, this time with even more force, "There's no need to go completely bonkers on me, you know. It's not as if we haven't kissed before."

He sighed again; she was apparently beyond the point where he could talk some sense into her. Another sign he should have stayed in bed all week, one horrid thing piling on top of another – beginning the week with a rape case was never a great start. It troubled him – it always did – and now Sharon was besides herself about one little mishap. Friends could kiss, he told himself, without anyone freaking out.

Andy was brought out of his reverie when Sharon surprised him with flinging open the bathroom door. She glared at him with anger visible in her expression, arms crossed rigidly.

"A kiss," her voice was derisive and lips drawn back revealing white teeth, "There's nothing simple about a kiss, Andy."

Andy put his hands angrily on his hips, glaring back at her, "Yeah, sorry honey but it was a simple kiss. No tongue, no groping."

She only seemed to become even more worked up, stalking away from him with long strides. Andy followed Sharon into the living room. They had been in the middle of painting the walls and he had pointed out the small smudge of paint on her cheek. She had returned his laugh with sticking her index finger in the paint bucket and poking his cheek with it. They had ended up in a half-hug, half fight, laughing and trying to get paint on the other one. He had kissed her – she had kissed him back; and now everything was anarchy.

"Why are you turning all irrational over a kiss?" Andy hissed, "you are being downright hysterical."

"Oh that's just great," she spun on the spot, eyes flashing with indignation, "I must be hysterical everytime I do something you do not understand, is that it? Are you really that oblivious?"

Andy strode up to her, standing an inch from her as he glared back hard, "You are the fucking definition of hysterical."

She shook her head, lips curling with contempt, "You know what," she tilted her head in an angle he took for further condescend, "of the two of us you are without a doubt the most hysterical."

"Yeah, yeah," he spread his arms out, "can we just get all the foolish frenzy out of your system and then talk about this without all the bullshit?"

She laughed scathingly, "We are friends, Andy." She paused, "You are supposed to be my friend. You are not supposed to kiss me – not like that."

"There are no rules about friendship and what you can and can't do, Sharon. You can do as you damn well please, okay. Shit, you can't categorize everything into a rulebook. That's not how life works."

"Are you even listening to yourself? " her voice had risen to a volume he rarely had the fortune of being privy to and it only made the strange feeling in his abdomen worsen. Sharon continued, her finger pointed at his chest in a reproachful fashion, "What next? – are we going to fuck as well? Because that would really be icing on the cake."

"Obviously not – you are way too hysterical for that now, I would rather just masturbate," Andy countered, voice dry and an eye roll to accompany the sarcasm.

She poked his chest now, eyes on him with distaste, "Everything is just a game to you, isn't it?"

"What?" Andy sputtered, feeling offended.

"You couldn't care less about consequences, could you! – you are without a doubt the most short-sighted person I have ever known, the most idiotic, insane and utterly - " she stopped, breathing irregularly and trying to come up with further names to call him, Andy was sure.

"Calm down," he tried to put a bit of softness in his voice but only managed to make it sound more raw. "You are too goddamn uptight about a kiss that didn't mean a hoot." He crossed his arms and glared back with equal intensity.

Sharon blinked slowly, her face becoming blank within a second. Andy could have slapped himself; it was the wrong thing to say obviously. Shit.

"Of course," she spoke in a tone that sounded too calm and low.

"I didn't mean - " Andy started, trying to backpedal.

"I know exactly what you meant," Sharon interrupted him, her stare like ice.

"Shit, Sharon – what do you want me say? That I will never kiss you again? Would that make you happy?"

She stared back at him with that panicked look in the depths of her eyes once again.

Andy continued, feeling angrier and angrier, "Because heck, I can manage that – hell, how about we never hug each other ever again? I'll refrain from ever touching you again, if that's what you want?"

There were tears in her eyes now and it floored him; he had seen her cry only a number of times and it had only managed to make him feel like shit then and it did the same now.

"Please don't cry," he said, his voice tentative and soft. He held a hand out towards her, not sure if he should touch her or not.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'll shut up now, okay? Just don't cry."

She looked down, her expression hidden, "I'm not crying."

Andy sighed, his hand at his neck, he had no idea how he was supposed to handle this.

"I'm sorry, Sharon," he apologized again. "I really am – I know I'm an insensitive bastard and an idiot. Please, just don't cry. There's no need to cry – not over me being an ass."

Andy was surprised when in response Sharon tumbled into his chest, her arms around him and her head buried into his chest. He hugged her back, arms tight around her. "Hey," he told the top of her head, his hands in a soothing rhythm on her spine.

"I need you more as a friend than anything else," she said, her voice muffled into his t-shirt and hitching with emotion.

It made sense. Jack had fucked her up royally and sometimes Andy forgot just that.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm here no matter what."

Her arms tightened around him, "No matter what?"

"No matter what," he reaffirmed, "nothing is going to change."

She looked up, a strange expression in her eyes, lips slightly parted.

"Everything's changed," she disagreed.

Andy sighed, "Not really if you think about it."

She continued to look at him, confused.

Somehow his hand ended up on her cheek, fingers under her jaw and on her neck, tracing her skin till he buried a hand in the back of her hair. Somehow he found himself staring at her, trying to contemplate her expression; parted lips, a little breathless intake and her fingers grasping the material of his t-shirt at his back.

It was only because of the single tear that escaped and travelled down her cheek Andy told himself as he leaned down again and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"See," he whispered, "nothing's changed – the earth hasn't stopped spinning around its axis. We are perfectly fine – still friends."

She nodded. "Do it again," she whispered, looking at him with a pensive expression.

Andy kissed her again, lingering this time in the relatively friendly kiss; it was simply his mouth pressed against hers without movement.

"Again," she breathed and when he began to lean down towards her yet again she surprised him and stood on tiptoe, her lips catching his in something that felt both strange and euphoric.

When they broke apart, heaving for air he took her hand and pulled her back to the paint bucket and the unfinished walls. "C'mon, let's paint the rest of your humble new abode."

She followed him, both of them silent as they painted.

It felt as much awkward as it felt comfortable; Andy was uncertain whether it was something entirely new – whether they would become something else now.

He kissed her again, the walls pristine, as they both stood in the kitchen washing paint off their fingers; he kissed her till her hands landed on his cheeks and it became a full making-out session.

Thank god she didn't freak out again, he thought.

…


	5. 5

**/DIAL M FOR PROVENZA/**

Andrew Flynn was waiting innocently by the elevator on the floor of Robbery/Homicide and Vice, his mind having galloped far away to fields of wonderment while the elevator car chose to be unbelievable slow. It soon turned to the point of testing his patience, one foot tapping against the floor and his beloved toothpick rolling from one corner of his mouth to the other.

Andy was in the middle of considering taking the stairs when he heard the telltale clang of heels against linoleum floor, resounding through the corridor and approaching him with volume. Andy couldn't help but plaster a wide appreciative smile on his face, turning his head and watching Sharon Raydor approach him in a slow gait, her nose buried in between the papers of an important file in her hands.

His heart instantly threatened to leap out of his chest wall, thudding hard, as he raked his eyes along her body; shit, she was immaculately sexy this morning.

"Hey there," Andy smirked, his voice raspy in a flirtatious fashion.

Sharon looked up with a surprised expression that quickly turned to warmth and something he thought looked coy on her, "Oh – hi there."

She stopped next to him, her eyes briefly on the elevator button he had already pushed before she in a shy fashion looked at him from out under her lashes, the file folder against her chest. Andy casually leaned against the wall next to the elevator, certain it would be an eternity before the car came to their floor. He knew that they were busy downstairs and no one much fancied going up to Robbery/Homicide when the rumor had them swamped and in a collective bad mood. Andy had simply gone to require about the case Ross was assigned, its familiar description having reached his ears. The idiot had nothing so far – as least nothing that linked back to one of Andy's old cases.

"Fancy meeting you here," Andy smiled widely, reminded once again that Sharon had a propensity for displaying both shyness and smugness all in one look.

"I could say the same to you, lieutenant," she answered in a smooth tone, her head tilted fractionally as she imitated him and deliberately gave him a good look from top to toe. Andy shook his head, noting she had a hard time restraining the little tell-tale smile.

"Going up or down?" Andy asked her, toothpick now in his hand and indicating the elevator.

A strangely crooked smile came to display on her face, "Um," she hesitated and Andy decided it was once again an ambiguous smile, capable of both being flirtatious and yet bashful.

Andy smiled and leaned his torso her way, "I'm going for coffee."

"Is that a new way of inviting me along?" her voice sounded warm and tingly – slightly breathless now that he thought about it.

"Yeah."

"I like coffee," Sharon replied, her tongue briefly out wetting her lips. Lips that were an exquisite red color Andy noticed, his tie feeling suddenly tight around his neck. He smiled wider.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

It was empty and instantly Andy noticed how Sharon's eyes flickered away from him, nervously taking in the empty carriage and the folder pressed more firmly against her chest; he wondered if she was conscious of it.

"After you, Captain," Andy smiled and indicated her with his toothpick. He kept the little wooden stick in his hand, trying to downplay the suddenly boyish smile that lit his mouth on fire. He followed after her, eyes on her back, down the sleek slide of material and the way muscles moved, round and looking firm. He coughed when he looked up and found her with an arched eyebrow and curling lips.

The doors closed.

Andy smiled and found the smile she returned to be something precious.

She looked kissable, he thought, inching closer and leaning further into her space. His hands were in his pockets and her arms were firmly grasped around the folder; it was an awkward position but it didn't matter – not really. Not when she parted her lips in slight anticipation, eyes exclusively on him.

It was only when the elevator dinged again and the doors started to open that Andy realized he had forgotten to push a floor in his stupor. They quickly leapt away from each other and stood with an appropriate distance between them, eyes on the door that opened fully and revealed Commander Taylor.

Taylor quirked an eyebrow and watched them with a pensive expression as his eyes swept from Andy to Sharon.

"Lieutenant Flynn, Captain Raydor," the sleazy slime ball greeted them, sidling inside the carriage in his usual slithering routine. Andy tried not to roll his eyes but only succeeded in not doing it to the ceiling.

Andy shrugged a little greeting in Taylor's general direction, sticking his toothpick back in his mouth now that the prospect of kissing Sharon in the elevator was without a doubt foiled.

"Commander," Sharon politely greeted Taylor, a sheepish red tint on her cheeks that looked good on her as far as Andy was concerned. There was something about her slightly ruffled that made his insides warm. Andy sneakily watched Taylor and when the idiot turned his back to them to push a bottom for their destination, Andy edged closer to Sharon, trying to appear nonchalant.

"You look flustered, Captain?" Andy whispered to Sharon, toothpick at one corner of his mouth and a smirk directed at her.

Sharon ignored him and simply stared straight ahead, her hands tightening around the folder and her mouth twitching.

"You two going down?" Taylor asked, turning his head to look back over his shoulder. There was something in that expression that Andy found ominous but then again he was sure the idiot always had a scheme or two up his sleeve no matter where he was, be it in elevators or in squad rooms.

"First floor," Andy answered, his eyes slightly narrowed, "going for some much needed coffee."

Taylor chuckled, "I heard about the evidence you lost, Flynn. Hey, you know what - in honor of such a screw-up, coffee's on me."

Andy tried to contain his annoyance, "Yeah – technically we didn't lose it. It was stolen; there's a very big difference between the two. It's something you should be familiar with what with working in robbery/homicide and not the lost and found."

Sharon stared at him curiously, a lifted eyebrow in an inquisitive rise.

Taylor continued despite Andy's vehement tone. Taylor with a idiotic mirthful smile on his smug face, "You found Provenza's car then?"

"Not yet," Andy groused, shaking his head, "It's a goddamn circus trying to find that damn car."

Sharon joined the conversation, her voice sounding too much like Taylor's, "You and lieutenant Provenza lost evidence?"

Taylor crept closer and leant in conspiratorially towards Sharon, "The two idiots managed to screw up once again – ruining weeks of undercover work. You know, in true lieutenant style they stopped for breakfast and Provenza's car with all the evidence was stolen right from under their noses."

Sharon smiled deviously at Andy, "Really." Sharon paused, her eyes humorously on Andy for a moment before she turned her smile back at Taylor in a way that made the hair on Andy's arms rise. "Those two should not be allowed to work in the same chain of command what with their propensity for trouble."

"I've been saying that for years," Taylor replied, "and nobody listens. Well, I heard Pope has threatened to forcibly retire Provenza?" Taylor looked at Andy.

Andy chuckled, "The day they force Provenza to do anything is the day the sun doesn't rise in the east."

They both nodded, small agreeing smiles.

The elevator dinged and Taylor exited with a cheerful bye-bye.

Andy rounded on Sharon the moment the doors closed, shaking his head and backing her up into a corner, "Someone was in an unusual good mood, huh. I've only ever seen him that cheerful when he's up to something stupid and snake-like." He touched the side of her face, his thumb just in front of her ear, "god, I thought he would never leave."

She looked beautiful, he thought, her green eyes on him.

"So you think I'm trouble," he whispered close to her face, enjoying the way her right hand enveloped his wrist as she let go of the folder and instead kept a hold on him.

"Without fail," she replied, her eyes half narrowed at him having manhandled her into the elevator wall, "You are aware that we have security cameras in our elevators, are you not?"

Andy shrugged, "So, what you are saying is that there are rules."

She furrowed her brow, "Pardon."

"I can't kiss you in places where there's the possibility of being caught on tape, is that it? Not much of an exhibitionist, are you?"

Sharon gave a short laugh, half scandalized, half amused. She opened her mouth and was no doubt about to lay out ground rules, Andy interrupted her however.

"You look stunning today," he said and then quickly stepped back from her, a smile thrown to the corner with the security camera, "New earrings?"

Sharon sighed, "You are going to be the death of me."

Andy laughed, "I hope not."

Sharon shook her head in despair Andy was sure was feigned.

The elevator doors opened to the first floor.

Andy had to restrain himself and not guide Sharon out with his hand, fingers itching to land on the small of her back. Instead he followed her into the cafeteria, walking just at her shoulder and enjoying the way they exchanged looks every now and then.

They sat down at their usual little spot near the wide windows with their ordered cappuccinos, the sofa comfortable. Andy edged closer to her, thigh against thigh as he sipped from his cup. The cafeteria was practically empty for other police officers he noticed with a sly grin, the only exception a rookie standing up at the counter and looking undecided about what to order.

Andy landed his hand above her knee, a little caress on her thigh as he sipped his coffee nonchalantly while catching the way Sharon smiled into her coffee at the gesture.

Andy leaned a bit closer, a quick look over his shoulder.

Still empty.

"Don't even think about it," Sharon admonished him, her smile quirky.

"Too late – I'm thinking about it," Andy countered and leaned further towards her, giving her ample of opportunity to avoid his lips if that was what she wanted.

Instead she rolled her eyes at his slow motion antics and leaned up and caught his lips in a kiss herself. Andy detected the little hum that tingled along with the faint taste of coffee.

"You are hopeless," she said once the rather brief kiss was over, her eyes in a scrutinized glare out over the cafeteria, her smile only sweet when she turned back and regarded him.

"Yeah," he simply agreed, "completely hopeless."

She sipped from her coffee and then said over the rim, "No more kissing while we are on duty. I'll slap you silly next time."

Andy grinned, "That'll only turn me on, you know."

"I'm not slapping your ass," she deadpanned.

Andy chuckled, "What a shame, what fun we could have."

Sharon snorted into her coffee.

…

**/SUDDEN DEATH/**

Andrew Flynn pressed himself unashamedly against Sharon Raydor, his jeans feeling restrained in a certain place and his hands on their way under her soft sweater, the material feeling light between his fingers. They backed up into the wall just inside her front door, shadowed in from the bright light of the sun.

Sharon was breathing into his ear, head arched back into her wall – her breaths were small and quiet but warm against his skin, hurried when he placed his lips on her neck. Andy curled his fingers around the bare flesh of her hips, his hips connected to hers.

It was bound to happen, Andy thought in excitement, eventually. That it was bound to happen a little after the crack of dawn, breakfast heavy in their stomachs and with the promise of going to the beach in a short while, it was a mystery to him however.

"You planned this," Sharon huffed out as Andy put his lips on the point where he could feel pulsation the harder he pressed into the flesh of her throat.

"What?" he groused, not really listening.

Sharon giggled in response and Andy smiled against her neck, leaving a little kiss there before he straightened up, his lips inches from hers and her eyes up close, the color dark.

"You've planned this, haven't you?" Sharon repeated, her lips curled in an adorable upwards curve.

Andy smirked.

Sharon continued in the same smooth voice, her fingers tightly wound into his t-shirt at the low point of his spine. "Taking me out to breakfast, my favorite place nonetheless and your hand on my inner thigh the whole time - "

Andy shut her up, his mouth on hers. Sharon hummed, another giggle at the back of her throat.

Once they had broken apart, both out of breath, Andy leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Don't you think if I planned sex I would do it at a more opportune time of the day? And most certainly not after a goddamn buffet."

She smiled cheekily, "You don't like morning sex?"

"I live for morning sex," he grumbled back, not able to keep his mouth from grinning as well. Just the imagery of any kind of sex with her and shit, it was quite an incentive. Andy pressed his body more firmly against Sharon's, enjoying the quiver in his lower stomach – anticipation throughout his whole body that unfurled rapidly.

"How would you plan it then?" she whispered, her eyes sparkling in an unusual light.

"I wouldn't," he told her, sincerity in his words, "spontaneity is so much more fun, wouldn't you say?"

She smiled, another shaky breath when he moved his thumbs upwards along her stomach, his other fingers encountering the edge of her ribcage.

She looked down briefly, and he suddenly found the sight of her slightly fragile.

Andy leaned in again, pressing a brief kiss to the skin close to her ear before he whispered, "It's your pace, Sharon."

She looked up, a nervous smile, "Don't you find any of it strange?"

He shook his head.

"Not even one bit?"

Andy smiled, tracing his hands down her sides and up again in a soothing rhythm, "It's not like I haven't imagined what it would be like with you."

One side of her mouth twitched and he smiled when he felt her fingers on the waistband of his jeans, hanging onto the front as she moved in center, "See," she cooed in a low voice, "that just makes me feel all awkward."

Her lips curled in amusement.

He grinned, "What – you're surprised I've daydreamed about you?"

"Well, honestly, no," she giggled, "I know you after all."

Andy pressed her further against the wall, catching the edge of her mouth and sliding her bottom lip in between his, the mound soft. She unfastened his belt and buckle, sliding the leather belt out of his jeans and the thing landed somewhere on her floor with a loud clang. Next came the button and the zipper, her hands going under his jeans now, under the waist band of his briefs.

Fuck.

He kissed her harder.

"What obscene things have you imagined then?" she asked, her tone raspy and her hand warm around him, "aside from the obligatory blowjob?"

Andy chuckled, his hips pushing into her hands, "If you can think of it, I'll have imagined it."

"Oh," she brought her mouth to his, her hand going down the length of his penis in a tight hold, "trouble indeed."

Andy buried his hands into the back of her hair, holding her still as he kissed her back. It was heady and wet – perfect.

Perfection was spoiled however, his phone vibrating in the back pocket of his jeans for a split second before it was followed by the loud obnoxious ringtone. Andy groaned, stilling his hands and mouth.

Sharon leaned back from his lips and gave him an impossibly soft look, "You on call?"

Andy nodded and extricated himself from Sharon – because shit he couldn't answer the phone with her hand in his jeans; not without saying something embarrassing anyway. Yet he answered the phone one hand braced on the wall next to Sharon's head, his body encasing her. He smiled back at her, the flush across her cheeks and the slightly swollen, pursed lips more inviting than ever. The sweet way her hands went in search for pockets but came up empty and instead they ended up behind her back.

"Flynn." Andy said into the phone, eyes on Sharon still – her smile only seemed to broaden the more he stared at her.

Provenza was on the other end and Andy listened to the gruff tones, his smile slowly disappearing altogether. He hung up feeling disoriented.

"I have to go," Andy said straightening up, his body feeling rigid. He put his phone back in his pocket, "I have to go to the hospital." His voice sounded half-restrained when it left his mouth and he barely noticed Sharon's half panicked look. Instead he stepped away from her, buttoning and zipping up his jeans and scooping up his belt from the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to compile his thoughts into some sense of coherency.

"Who's in the hospital?" Sharon interrupted him, her voice was low and quiet.

Andy looked up, catching the anxious look. He caught her hand, a soothing thumb across the inside of her wrist, "Julio's brother's been shot." When she continued to look confused Andy sighed, "Detective Sanchez's brother has been shot, I mean."

"Oh," it was a little sorrowful noise.

Andy sighed again, "Shit."

"I'm sorry," Sharon said and stepped further into his space, her hand squeezing his back in reassurance. "I'll drive you to the hospital, honey. Just give me a second to get my things and - "

Andy interrupted her, "I think it's better if I just go there myself."

Sharon stopped, green eyes confused for only a second before they narrowed, "Oh." This time it sounded ominous and not sorrowful and empathetic. Her voice was strangely calm, "You don't want me there?"

Andy shook his head, "It's not that."

She smiled only it seemed cold, "You don't want to be seen with me, is that it?" She shook her hand out from his and crossed her arms instead.

Andy rolled his eyes, "For heaven's sake, Sharon – that's the worst crap and you know it."

She pursed her lips in disbelief.

Andy continued, taking a step closer to her, his voice angry, "Let's not forget you are the one insisting we do not make out in public. You are the one afraid of our bosses finding out we are - well, whatever we are."

Sharon narrowed her eyes further, "Bullshit."

"Just shut up for a moment, will ya. I'm trying to say I don't care one bit about who knows about us, okay! You've been my friend for an eternity, Sharon, so I'm used to the half-belligerent stares and the smartass comments everytime someone hates on FID, okay. You could drive me to the hospital and I would like having you there with me," Andy stopped briefly for an intake of breath and then continued, his voice still sounding vehement, "I simply want to spare you from the looks you are gonna get, okay. Because no one – and I mean no one – will want to see you there. Provenza will throw a fit, and you know it."

She gave a nod and it seemed almost docile. "Okay."

"I'm sorry but every other single soul at the hospital has a strained relationship with internal affairs. I think it would be better if I go there alone."

She nodded again, her eyes on his shoulder. She did not sound reassured – nor did she look it. The smile was gone. He sighed and cursed himself inwardly; he never knew what to say without making a fool of himself.

"Listen, I will call you – drop by when we know what's happening?"

She gave another half-hearted nod.

Andy pressed a brief kiss to her mouth, her lips unmoving. "Please don't go all nuts on me," he whispered.

She smiled a soft smile, "I won't."

"I'm sorry," Andy said again.

"Go," she said, leaning up and this time she pulled him into a real kiss, her lips soft, "Text me if you plan to drop by for dinner."

Andy lingered for a brief second, nodding, and then he flew out of her door, his heart going out to Julio.

…

**/TIJUANA BRASS/**

Andrew Flynn couldn't decide between excitement or annoyance when he spotted the familiar form of Sharon Raydor striding in from the corridor and arriving in his murder room with an expression of formality and her hands on hips in her usual 'I'm here to make trouble' style. On her heels followed her little whelp, the poor kid trying to adopt the same smug smirk Sharon had perfected over decades of being a single female in a large crowd of men; the Elliot kid however only managed to look even younger.

Andy chuckled and shook his head at the vision.

Besides Mike engrossed in his computer the murder room was empty but for Andy at his desk. The chief had barricaded herself in her office, blinds closed and most assuredly ransacking her not so secret drawer of sugary confections to calm her nerves. Andy would make sure Sharon did not bother her – there had been plenty of others when the bastard had put his hands around the chief's neck – the last thing the chief needed was I.A being their usual nosy self; no, Andy could handle Sharon.

Andy narrowed his eyes, watching as Sharon came to a halt inside the doorway and then scanning the room her eyes landed on him. The stare he received set the deal and the scales tipped to feeling a tad more annoyed than excited.

Elliot stood at her shoulder, crossing his arms and turning his scowl up a notch.

Andy got up from his chair and stalked towards her. "What are you doing here?" he grumbled before he could reconsider, forgetting for a brief second that maybe a cordial 'hey' would have been warranted.

Sharon crossed her arms and glared back at him, "Your chief was assaulted and a whole crowd of detectives had to subdue your suspect – a suspect who's screaming police brutality left and right, ranting about human rights and evidence being mishandled," she paused briefly to direct one lone condescending eyebrow at him, "What do you think I'm doing here?"

Sharon turned to Elliot, "Detective, why don't you go have a talk with lieutenant Tao." Elliot nodded and Sharon smiled softly, "Remember it's your show."

"Got it, Captain," the kid said, his face lit up in ridiculous pride. Andy rolled his eyes to the ceiling and when his eyes landed on the kid again the little whelp was scowling in Andy's direction, a well pronounced sneer that made it certain the kid had seen the eye roll.

Andy waved the kid along, waving his hand dismissively in the direction of Tao and his computer. The kid stalked over to Mike.

"Did someone piss on his breakfast?" Andy asked, staring at the back of Elliot.

Sharon slapped his shoulder, "Stop antagonizing him."

Andy looked back at Sharon, "What! I haven't said a word to him."

"You know very well what I mean. You yell at him whenever you want to know my whereabouts. Pushing your rank in his face, intimidating him; it's not going to make him friendly towards you. So, if we are talking about who's been pissing on his breakfast the answer is you, lieutenant."

Andy sighed, "He's too sensitive."

"And you are without a doubt too insensitive," she smiled in that way where you knew she did not mean it kindly.

"Yeah, yeah – I think we established that eons ago." Andy gave a nod in the kid's direction, "His show?"

"I'm supervising," Sharon replied, "Officially I'm not here."

"I still don't understand what you are doing here, officially or unofficially" Andy grumbled, "the freak's a dirty cop – from Tijuana nonetheless," Andy shrugged indifferently, knowing he was being antagonistic without good reason.

"I'm well aware of the whole situation, lieutenant, seeing Chief Pope and Commander Taylor just filled us in on every detail."

Andy gave a noncommittal hum, knowing it would piss her off, "Yeah – well there's nothing to investigate for you is there. The case is shut and closed, easily – the scumbag has the cartel so far up his ass, he's got dirty money coming out of his mouth."

Sharon lips curled in disgust at his obscenity and Andy gave her a cheeky sneer in return.

"You have such a flair for words," she sneered, eyes doing a slow roll.

"I'm a regular Shakespeare, I know," Andy smiled caustically, taking a step closer to her. His shirt sleeves were rolled up from the earlier scuffle and his agitation was still boiling just under the surface. Somewhere in all his pent-up emotions there was a reserve of exhilaration just waiting to be released as well because in all honesty Sharon in her official snarky internal affairs routine was at most times something of a turn on.

It always became a game then, a little back and forth.

"Detective Elliot is here, on the request of our superiors, to make sure there are absolutely no loop holes for your suspect to jump through."

Andy ignored her comment and instead he tilted his head, leaned in conspiratorially towards her, "Funny fact – did you know this guy's a fucking internal affairs commandant."

Sharon narrowed her eyes, her chin up in an arrogant angle, "Are you trying to insult me with that ridiculous analogue? If that's the best you can come up with I think you should consider just throwing in the towel and going home."

Andy smiled, "Just seems funny, that's all."

"You know what I find funny?" her voice was dead low and she didn't give him time to answer, "Your predilection for without fail ruining my day."

Andy chuckled, "It's that easy to ruin your day, huh?"

Sharon pointed her finger at him, "Why are you such an asshole?"

Andy leaned even closer and whispered, "Because I'm hot and bothered."

Sharon looked overwhelmed for a second and then a devious smile appeared on her lips that did not in any way help with his impending erection.

"Internal affairs are here to collect statements," Sharon replied, the innocent tone only suspicious.

"You can collect mine first," Andy volunteered, a hand on her shoulder and steering her towards the corridor and toilets.

She laughed, "No, no - I don't need yours. I think it will be enough to let Elliot interview everyone else but you."

"Exactly," Andy replied, "You have plenty of time to supervise in spirit and take a little walk with me."

She stopped and spun around, her hand briefly on his chest and pushing him away; the touch was only soft however. "Why don't you just go back to your desk and do whatever it is you were doing?"

Andy smirked and planted a hand on her hip and whispered into her ear, "Just admit it, you are bothered too."

Sharon shook her head with a wry smile, her eyes narrowing in on his hand on her hip. Andy quickly let go of her and watched as she slowly walked back into the corridor; Andy followed her naturally.

"So you admit it," Andy prodded her, following her sway down the corridor till they rounded a corner, the hallway empty.

Sharon turned around and caught his head in between two hands, her lips on his in a searing kiss.

Andy grinned into the kiss, his hands landing in her hips and drawing her closer to him.

"I admit that I find you self-absorbed and smug beyond reason," Sharon husked once they broke apart.

"Mmhm, the best qualities," Andy countered, planting his lips on hers again.

In reply Sharon bit down on his bottom lip, pain flaring in his mouth and the taste of metal strong when she broke away.

Andy soothed the sore skin with his tongue, giving her an arched eyebrow, "I'm seriously thinking about taking you with me into the toilet."

Sharon's mouth curved and her eyes glinted with humor, "I have a busy schedule today, lieutenant – maybe some other time."

With a little wave she left him in the hallway, going back to the murder room to supervise.

"I'll hold you to that," Andy hollered at her back, his lips split apart in a broad grin as he enjoyed watching her ass.

Fuck, now he was definitely bothered.

…

**/TIME BOMB/**

Andrew Flynn had barely rung Sharon Raydor's doorbell before the door was flung open and he was enveloped by a hurricane, auburn hair in his vision and a small body nestled closely against his own in desperation. Frankly there was no time to utter a hello or even breathe before her lips were sealed to his, hands roaming at the back of his head. Andy wasn't sure who moved first but his arms tightened around her in the embrace, afraid to let go.

The door slammed closed behind them and it took next to no time navigating through the apartment and into the bedroom, no time at all before every article of clothing lay on the bedroom floor in a mess that was unusual for Sharon – no time at all before he had her on her back on the bed, hands around the back of her thighs. Andy slipped inside her in one effortless motion, able to breathe again at the familiar and yet unfamiliar feeling.

Andy buried his nose against her neck, breathing in that distinct scent of Sharon till it filled every recess of his mind. He pounded into her, emotions reckless and movements frantic. Her fingers curled around his biceps, legs tight around his middle in a way that kept him firmly positioned.

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Shh, don't talk."

"No, I -" Andy paused not sure what he wanted to say if he even wanted to say anything. No, Sharon was right – better to not talk at all.

One of her hands treaded through his hair, "Just fuck me," she breathed into his ear, the tone so low and raw it imposed further uproar inside him. Sharon tightened her fingers in his hair and her legs rearranged themselves to a snugger grip around him, groin meeting his.

It didn't take more incentive to leave behind the disastrous day and become inevitably lost in a haze. Entangled and lost in her body, the excruciating heat inside him only intensifying.

Afterwards, Andy could hardly breathe let alone think. Sharon's legs were still firmly around his middle and her fingers tenderly traced his cheeks and travelled along his temple into his hair – her eyes searching and soft in the daylight when he dared look at her.

Too searching.

Andy had never liked feeling vulnerable, so instead he settled his cheek against hers, eyes closing as he tried to coordinate his breathing.

"Stay," she said when he tried to slip out of her, her legs tightening around him and her nails digging painfully into the tender flesh at his shoulders, "Please."

"Okay," Andy complied and stilled his movements.

There was a short moment of silence where Andy forced himself to not think about anything in general. It was an impossible accomplishment however, the day's shootout at the mall still too stark in his memory, bullets flying through the air and the smell of the burn pipe exploding still an itch in his nose.

Andy drove his hands into her hair before they crumbled to shaking fists, the soft hair between his fingers grounding, her scalp compact underneath.

"It's going to be fine," Sharon soothed, her voice next to his ear and her fingers gentle at his back in a caress, "It will be fine."

Andy grunted.

"Andy?" she ventured, her voice breathy and contemplative.

"Yeah," Andy raised himself up on his elbows, his eyes on her face.

Sharon opened her mouth but closed it again and with a strange sad smile on her lips she shook her head, "Nothing." She lay her hand on his lower back and traced it up and down, the rhythm reminding him of something long forgotten.

Andy rested his head again, cheek warm against her cheek and the scent of her much more heady up close. There was the hint of something faintly salty when he pressed his lips to her neck, the taste pronounced when he ended the kiss with a lick.

She giggled in a low tone and he couldn't help but smile.

"I love you," Andy whispered in her ear, the extra inhalation that she took forcing him to once again lift himself up on elbows and observe her.

Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly apart. Her tongue came out and wetted her lips and then she turned her head to the side and caught his lips, the kiss languid.

"I thought you promised me a long time ago not to scare me like this ever again," Sharon whispered when she broke from the kiss, lips still so close to his that her voice vibrated and tingled against his lips, "I do not enjoy finding out from other's you been involved in another shootout."

"I didn't wanna alarm you."

Her expression became closed, "I tend to become alarmed when radio scatter has your whole division either blown apart by a pipe bomb or shot to pieces."

"I'm sorry. I'm alright now."

She nodded, "It could have been you in the hospital, undergoing surgery right now. You could have been dead."

Andy grunted, trying not to think about Julio in surgery, trying not to think about the three bullets to his back and whatever dreadful damaged they had done. It was best not to think too much.

"It's our job." Andy answered her, his voice indifferent. He felt a bit perplexed, a bit estranged from himself and the day's events, "I'm fully aware of what it entails and the dangers inherent."

"I know that, Andy," she replied harshly, eyebrows in a furrow, "We signed up for the same thing. I'm just – a bit - unsettled."

"I love you," Andy told her again, watching how that exasperated furrow instantly flattened out and a smile slowly blossomed on her lips instead, a bit shy. Andy leaned closer and kissed the edges of her mouth. "I need you to know that," he said, voice somber.

Her smile faded, somehow catching where his morbid brain had gone off to.

"I know you do," Sharon said, "I would have known it in the event that - I would know it had you been - ," she stopped and then shook her head as if she was annoyed with herself.

"You know?" Andy felt uncertain – he sure as hell had never told her before.

Her smile was nostalgic and sad, "Remember the Martins case? What was it – back in 91?"

Andy wondered if she was purposefully changing the subject. Not that he minded – his own mortality was never a subject he gladly felt up to discussing.

"Yeah, it was in 92," Andy affirmed, the case had been one of those you did not easily forget, the brutal murders of the two small girls vivid in his recollections.

"You went on a bender and ended up on my doorstep."

Andy grunted; he didn't remember.

Sharon continued to speak, "Jack was in – well, I can't remember. He was off somewhere on one of his usual little errands I'm sure," her voice was soft even if that time was not indicative of softness. It was the quality of her voice accompanied by the soothing fingers once again in his hair that felt gentle to him, "Ricky was having trouble sleeping at the time I remember and I had just gotten him to bed when you started pounding down my front door. I was ready to kick you for making all that racket but then I opened the door, and there you where, vomit down yourself and sobbing. I got you cleaned up and managed to somehow drag you to the couch. Remember that old lumpy piece?"

"Mmhm," he hummed because that piece of shit he remembered, the fucking furniture always managing to throw out his back no matter what position he lay in.

"You held onto my hand throughout the whole night in an iron grip and so I stayed on the floor till you fell asleep. You told me that you loved me, just before you fell asleep."

There was another short pause.

"I don't remember it."

"Oh," she hummed, the sound surprisingly soft and not disappointed that Andy did not remember it.

"Are you sure it was me? Doesn't sound like me," Andy ventured because he had been a mean drunk back in the 90's and he would bet his pension that he had never said one pleasant thing to anyone in that decade.

Sharon laughed, "Yes, honey – it was most certainly you."

Andy slid his lips along her cheek till he came to rest on her lips and he drew her into a kiss. "I don't remember much from those years. I just know I was a right bastard."

"You were never unnecessarily mean to me."

Andy chortled, "So I was necessarily mean to you?"

"You tested my patience," her voice was dry, "You were something of an asshole back then – still are."

Andy laughed.

Feeling a cramp in his right calf, he sighed. "Sorry honey," he turned them around, slipping out of her and landing on his back. Sharon draped herself across him, her head resting comfortably on his chest and her arm slung across his abdomen. Her legs soon sneaked in between his as well.

"Damn, you're a snuggler," he teased her, warmth in the tone.

"Yes," she giggled.

There was a short pause and then Sharon spoke again, "I love you too – just so you know."

Andy smiled, a hand under her chin and catching her lips in another kiss.

…

**/GOOD FAITH/**

Andrew Flynn balanced the plastic plate with the wedding cakes samples he had managed to sneak out of the murder room without anyone noticing, his expression one of barely contained glee now that he did not have to sneer at the officers who had looked funnily at him in the elevator. Andy entered Sharon Raydor's office, one elbow on the doorknob, turning it down and pushing the door open with his shoulder. He smiled broadly when his eyes came to rest on Sharon's form behind her desk.

Sharon greeted him with her customary 'why don't you knock' stare, her mouth in a little annoyed line until her eyes landed on the plate in Andy's hands and her expression changed drastically.

"This is gonna bring you into a sugar-induced coma," Andy said, rounding her desk and setting the plate in front of her on a pile of what looked like incident reports. Andy sat down next to the plate, his feet hanging out over her desk. He watched her look between the cake slices and him, a blossoming suspicious look.

"What's the occasion?" Sharon asked in velvet tunes, crossing her arms and tilting her head back fractionally so she could look him in the eyes.

Andy gave her ceiling a resigned eye roll, "I haven't poisoned the cake if that's what you are implying."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Sharon smiled sweetly, arms still crossed.

Andy grinned and knowing it would annoy her he put one of his feet up on her chair, the toe of his shoe just next to her thigh. Right enough, Sharon directed a narrowed look at his foot before the same look was bestowed upon him.

"If I wanted to poison you I would be a tack more inconspicuous about it," Andy drawled, "I don't have a need for that however. I know just how to make you cooperative without resorting to poison."

"Is that so?" Sharon countered, her tone sounding seductive.

"Yeah," Andy grunted and then patted his hip where his badge and gun recided, "I'll remember to bring the handcuffs next time, doll."

"You can use mine if you ask nicely," Sharon replied around a dark smile, rising from her chair and approaching him. Andy looked on with an excited grin, spreading his legs and making room for her between them. "But if you ever call me doll again I'm going to handcuff you up and leave you for an indefinite period of time to suffer," Sharon smiled deviously, put her arms around his neck and met him for an albeit soft kiss.

Andy slung his arms around her as well and brought her closer, hands at the low of her back, fingers running down over the swell of her ass.

"I wouldn't mind you in handcuffs," Andy whispered and was rewarded with a mysterious smile, "and nothing else."

"Why are you bringing me three different kinds of cake?" Sharon asked curiously and clearly dodging the whole handcuffs-conversation, her lips an inch from his and her smile sly.

"It's wedding cake – samples for chief Johnson's upcoming wedding. Whenever they actually decide on a date, that is."

"Your chief's getting married?"

"Mmhm," he paused, "to a fed nonetheless."

"There are worse fates," Sharon smiled.

"How so?"

She didn't answer but merely played with the hair at the back of his neck, an arched eyebrow and her lips pursed in a way he took to mean she found him amusing.

"What kind of wedding cake did you have when you married that estranged husband of yours?" The question slipped out from his mouth before he could think about the ramifications. Andy kept his smile broad however, his fingers landing under the swell of her ass and forcing her even closer to him. Maybe it was not that much of a dark memory. You never knew with Sharon.

Sharon gave him a too brief peck on his lips and then snuck a hand out from the embrace and took the plastic fork and dug it into the chocolate cake. She put the fork in her mouth, humming around it.

Andy stared at her as she chewed, her eyes closed, "I like chocolate," she breathed out in a hum.

"You didn't answer my question, Sharon."

"What kind of cake did you have?" she asked him evasively, her mouth against his before he could answer. The kiss tasted deliciously of chocolate, his hands on her ass a wonderful addition. Andy groaned, Sharon's hands landed on his thighs and began rubbing up and down, edging closer to his crotch upon every turn.

"I don't remember – whatever Michelle wanted, I'm sure. I wasn't that into the whole shebang. I let her decide and as a consequence world war three didn't start."

"You have a tremendous aptitude for peace-keeping, indeed," she said, the tone laced with sarcasm.

"Hey," he squeezed her ass with a grin, "I can be peaceful when I want to."

Sharon leaned to the side again and this time she stuck the fork into the lemon cake, her smile when she bit into it telling him she liked this piece even more than the chocolate. Andy took a hold of her chin and forced her close, their mouth's on each other again. This time it was a fresh kiss, the lemon tingly when their tongues met.

When they broke apart, Andy chuckled, "I think I like the lemon cream the best."

Sharon hummed in agreement, "Be sure to tell your chief that."

There was a brief pause and then Sharon spoke again, "I don't think we had wedding cake." Her tone sounded contemplative and lost in the past.

"What! Are you serious?"

"Andy," she drawled, his name sounding like something forbidden from her lips, "I was young and my parents did not particularly like Jack. We ran away and got married under the radar. There was never time for a wedding cake."

Andy smiled, "You are kidding me, right? You ran away with Jack?"

She nodded, "It was the 70's, honey. We did have wedding champagne," she giggled, "and strawberries. Whipped cream, too – Mmm."

"You are killing me," Andy grumbled, not really caring for her past sexual encounters with Jack let alone anyone for that matter.

"Jealous?" she looked up with a coy expression, her eyelashes flittering mockingly at him.

"Not really," he shrugged, "I've got you now."

She smiled and stuck the fork into the last slice of cake, hummed around it and when she leaned into him and kissed him, he hummed too, the taste of strawberry strong.

"I'm not sure which one I prefer yet," Andy told her, pursing his lips, "I think you'll have to taste them all again and kiss me just to be sure."

Sharon stuck her tongue out at him, her head tilted a little to the side.

"Captain, do you have the file on - " Detective Elliot interrupted as he opened the door without knocking. The kid stopped abruptly when he noticed what was happening in his Captain's office.

Andy turned around and couldn't help but gloat when he noticed the whelp had turned red-faced and then began stammering, "Ugg, sorry, Captain – I, just – bye," and then disappeared again, the door closing behind him.

"For heaven's sake," Sharon breathed and sneaked out of his arms with frightening alacrity and before Andy could protest she was on the other side of her office door, obviously managing to catch the kid before he fled. Andy listened to the low voices, unable to distinguish what was being said except for differentiating between Sharon's soft, understanding voice and the kid's somewhat deeper, troubled tone.

"Knocking before entering must have become a lost arcane art because no one seems to knock on my door anymore," Sharon complained with a huff as she came back into her office and slid back into her position between Andy's legs as he sat on her desk, her fingers doing a little walk up his chest. Her smile was wry.

"You know he's in love with you, don't you?" Andy told her, smiling.

"What?"

"Elliot," Andy replied cheekily, "He's got a big crush on you, the poor idiot."

Sharon rolled her eyes, "Stop it."

Andy shrugged, "Just saying."

"You never 'just say' anything."

She had a point – "I'm just saying he must be devastated now, huh."

"You'll be devastated if you continue with this," she threatened him with a lazy smile, once again sticking the plastic fork into the lemon cream cake.

"You wanna lock your door and have a go at your desk?" Andy asked her, not sure if he was serious or joking; maybe a combination of the two, depending on her answer, "because I could lick cake off you in other places than you mouth."

Sharon merely smiled back.

"That a yes?" Andy prodded, his lips curling with excitement.

Sharon put a bit of the lemon cake into her mouth, chewed and then, "I have a meeting in fifteen minutes and I'm sure you have a murder to solve."

"I can get you off quick," Andy shrugged; he was fairly certain he might even get her to come twice in that timeframe.

"As much as I appreciate your impromptu visit and your arrogant confidence in your abilities to pleasure me, I'm not going to strip naked in my own office and have sex with you."

Andy smiled, "Later? My place?"

She grinned, "Definitely."

…

**/JUNK IN THE TRUNK/**

"Would you come away with me?" Andrew Flynn asked in between a kiss as he had Sharon Raydor pinned firmly against her own refrigerator, her hands above her head and locked in his grip. "Sneak away to some remote tropical island, you and me, and my illegally-acquired diamonds, worth millions." He arched an eyebrow, evading her lips as she tried to kiss him, "You could saunter around in scantily outfits and I would appreciate the view."

"Illegally-acquired diamonds," Sharon drawled, her lips pursing when he evaded yet another kiss. She hummed in exasperation, her leg curling around his instead and her hips bumping against his.

"Are we a little impatient?" he smiled.

"You're talking too much," she complained, "you been in an awful talkative mood today, last night as well."

Andy shrugged, "I didn't hear you complain last night."

"That's because your head was stuck down between my legs," she fired back, an unusual crooked smirk.

"So," he ignored her attempt at moving things along, shifting his morning erection away from her pelvis, "you would run away with me?"

"No," Sharon answered, her face blank.

"What?"

"I would turn you in to the authorities," her lips curled into a sly smile, "Well, I mean I would arrest you myself and give back the diamonds you stole illegally from holding."

Andy stared and narrowed his eyes, "You would arrest me!"

"Lieutenant," her voice turned soft, a half grin on her face, "Let's face it – you would get bored within a second on a remote tropical island and I would be stuck with a five-year-old man." She paused, "Now, lieutenant, please kiss me."

Andy complied and caught her lips, enjoyed the taste of the little coffee they had managed to drink before he became inevitably horny.

"I wouldn't be bored," he told her, the smile on her face triumphant.

She shook her head in disagreement. "I know you. There would be absolutely no crimes for you to investigate on a remote tropical island, and honey, there would be no _idiots_ to annoy on a remote tropical island. You would drive me insane and we'd end up in the newspaper, ex-cop and his illicit lover dead in a murder/murder."

Andy pouted, "I wouldn't get bored – I'd have you."

She laughed, "You wanna retire, is that it?"

"Well," he hesitated, not sure he wanted to concede she might have a point.

"Honey, you're a workaholic."

His smile fell, his mood plummeting.

"I didn't mean it like that," she backpedaled hurriedly, her eyes worried for a second. She wrestled out of his grip on her wrists and threaded a hand through his hair, the other landing on the back of his neck and forcing him closer. "I'm sorry. I just meant, you are kind of married to your job. You spent more time at Parker Central than I do and that's quite the achievement."

Andy nodded. She leaned towards him and gave him a kiss, lips eager and her little hums of pleasure enough to wash away any taste of darkness.

"I would come visit you in jail however and we could exchange letters of inappropriate content," she breathed into his ear, her hands going under his t-shirt and massaging the sides of his stomach, upwards till she came to his pectorals.

"Yeah, that's a bum," Andy groused, pushing his knee in between her legs and forcing her back against the refrigerator. "You don't have privileges. We are not married so no married-prison sex for us."

"I have contacts," she countered with a straight face.

"You do? You would finagle illicit prison sex for me, Captain?"

She nodded, her face serious only for a second before it broke into a wide smile.

"Fuck," he let out in a gravelly voice, the scenario too much even if it was only imaginary. Andy covered her mouth, tongues circling, and his hands went under her night robe. Fingers walking quickly up her inner thighs, under the band of thin underwear. The little red thing he had watched her put on earlier when he had sleepily contemplated her from the bed, her smile not to miss.

"Please," Sharon snickered, the tone turning breathy at the end when Andy ran his fingers along her outer lips before he slipped two inside her.

"I'm gonna fuck you right here," he growled, "Till you agree to not arrest me on any scenarios involving me and illegal police stuff."

She hit her head on the refrigerator when she threw it back; it did not seem to register with her, however, her mouth open and her eyes closed, "We are going to be here a long time, then."

Andy grinned, Sharon's hands on his pajamas pants.

"We can pretend you're visiting me in jail," he whispered in her ear before he bit down on the earlobe, his fingers wet and goddamn it was a glorious feeling, this, just being able to fuck her so blatantly, her breath perturbed and the little hums that left her mouth only making him harder.

"Moooom," came an obnoxious voice suddenly, the sound of Sharon's front door closing with a bang loud.

"Damn," Sharon said, her eyes abruptly opening in barely veiled horror. Andy simply grinned – judging from the voice, he would wager it was Ricky. He quickly stepped away from her, righting his pants and throwing his hands into the air in surrender as he smiled at the sour-looking Captain in front of him; fucking kids, they always had impeccable timing when it came to busting their parents.

"Ricky, honey, just a second," Sharon righted her night robe till she looked decent. It did not cover her rosy cheeks or the way her hair looked out of order. Sharon rolled her eyes when she caught him looking at her, his eyes hooded. She pointed a finger accusatorily at Andy, "Not a word," she admonished him before he could even do anything. She was right though; he was contemplating yelling something obscene back at the kid.

"And go stand behind the counter," she hissed, pointing at his crotch. Andy looked down, yeah that would be hard to hide. He quickly went behind the kitchen counter, took his coffee cup from earlier to have something to do with his hands. Maybe he should wash his hands first, Andy thought, his fingers sticky and the smell of her on them rather obvious.

Andy contemplating putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean but the look on Sharon's face forced him to simply wash them at the sink before he nonchalantly leaned against the kitchen counter.

Sharon sighed and ran a hand through her hair; there was nothing she could do however, she looked ruffled in that certain way you always look when things are kinky. Andy grinned at her, amused by her embarrassment.

"Mom," Ricky said rounding the corner and coming into the kitchen; he stopped in surprise at Andy's presence, one eyebrow arching in imitation of Sharon. The kid looked from Andy to Sharon and then simply shrugged,

"Flynn," Ricky greeted him.

"Kid," Andy greeted back, tipping his coffee cup in the kid's direction. The coffee was cold by now but the kid didn't know that.

"Honey – what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the hospital? I thought you were working this weekend?"

"My schedule's changed," the kid said and then his smile turned devious, "So banging Uncle Flynn, mom, that's something you've neglected to tell me over our weekly phone calls."

Sharon became even more red-faced, her hands searching for pockets that weren't in her night robe.

"Language," she scolded Ricky when she gave up on the non-existent pockets and instead schooled her features, "And if you ever call him uncle again, I'm writing you out of my will," she arched an eyebrow back at her son.

Ricky shrugged, "Yeah, I thought you did that already ten years ago when I colored a single strand of your hair pink with Sammy's make-up."

Sharon sighed, "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Nope – I was hoping you might want to invite me for pancakes," the kid smiled, "Now, had I known you were busy I could have called in advance – so maybe I should just leave, and let you two - "

Sharon interrupted, "Nonsense. I'm going to go change and you can get started yourself on pancakes. Andy can help," the last was said with a smile and with that she was out of the kitchen.

Andy looked at the kid, "Schedule change?"

The kid shrugged, face as obscured as Sharon's had the ability to be. "It's nothing." Ricky had the same little frown on his face that Sharon wore when something was troubling her. Sharon would get it out of the kid later on, Andy thought.

When Sharon came back into the kitchen, Ricky was making pancake batter, Andy was drinking new fresh coffee and entertaining the boy with their recent case, "So, the guy easily weighs over 300 pounds, found him in the back of his own trunk, bloated carcass taking up all the space. Now, he's too big to get out let alone hazard a guess as to how he died so we get a haul truck. Now those idiots can't manage to tow a car and they lose control of it and it goes down this hill, rams right into an electrical stand with its backend, the trunk smashed in and the electrical wiring falls down on top, sparks flying."

Andy grinned as Sharon put her hands on her hips.

He continued, "So, when we finally get the fat dead guy to our garage he's all mush, slimy, gory - "

She coughed, "Is this really a story you should be telling to civilians?"

Andy shrugged.

Ricky intervened, "Of course mom, he was just getting to the good stuff."

Sharon shook her head, a little amused smile and Andy laughed along with Ricky.

...

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback. ;) Hope this continues to be an enjoyment for everyone.


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